Spring During Winter
by Armpit
Summary: "What an Unhappy couple..." Love sucks, and being forced to marry a complete stranger isn't any better. Based 15 years forward from original Storyline and is an AU. This story will be discontinued, but I will be starting over again with new characters, some ideas, and fewer plot holes.
1. Four and counting

_Look to the end please_

I am always shitting bricks when I post something, I begin to get antsy and I think of the many things that can go on.

Also: Seriously, I am hearing that you can read a teaser at the end of the paperback version, I bought the hardback, which is I guess is a bad thing. Unlike in Eldest which I got the hardback version and which included in it was a brief history of Alagaesia and a list of people, places and things.

So I am playin' it safe for later chapters, and I give a fair warning: I suck at grammar and I doubt this story is any better

Disclaimer- I do not own anything of the inheritance cycle, otherwise, I would not use as much flowery descriptions as Paolini had used.

* * *

Prologue

No love in political weddings

Political weddings shared either no love or were probably one-sided, very rarely did either of the two fall in love with one another.

These political unions had often resulted in many children who probably did something important or did nothing in particularly worthy of noting.

Or if the two people did not particularly find each other fulfilling to their liking or they cannot produce any, there would be no children at all.  
But despite this, weddings would commonly have love, sometimes hate, and maybe even a combination of both shared by the people being married or by the guests attending to it.

But to this man, it was another day, another death with the same thing happening: the woman would smile, she would say she loved him, and then a week or so goes by and she offs herself or gets killed.

Mostly the getting killed part.

Of course whenever this happened, angry fingers would always point to the young man, cursing and demanding retribution but the fingers would disappear once the word of God would come out and point this 'poor' girl was a suicide and that all the shame and the punishment would await her living family in the afterlife.

Or if the girl was considered a spy, an assassin, or a traitor, she would immediately be convicted of treason against their king and _had_ to be put to death. And if the family wished to live, they would keep their mouths shut and abide by his ruling, for there were countless examples they had heard of and had seen before.

This killer of Maidens, as some would sometimes call him, was Murtagh and he grew accustomed to this charade and became detached from each one.  
He knew this was some way to bind himself to Galbatorix again because if he sired an heir, that child would be forced to be the dragon rider, like him.

And he didn't want another child to be like him and become like him.

Creating and having a personal relationship was not exactly his life's ambition.

But Galbatorix seemed to have failed to understand or didn't care what Murtagh wanted and given him a wife with a 'kill this one and I will make you understand the meaning of disobedience' wrapped in silk was getting old.

Someone had pointed out that each marriage was surprisingly easy to put down a time line to each wife: the first one had a saucy mouth and lasted a mere three days, the second one kept talking in her sleep and further exposed that she was an assassin and lasted a week, the third gave the feeling that she had relations to the Varden and lasted for three weeks until evidence was put forth, and the fourth lasted about a month and three weeks and that was probably because she was a witch, but regardless it really meant a lot compared to others.

Now was wife number five who gave the impression that she wouldn't be able to last long.

She had an oval face, rather large round gray eyes, a narrow pronounced nose, curly long blond hair and small lips. She didn't make much eye contact, never the less speak and she seemed to look rather homesick.

Whenever they were together, she would find some way to ignore him and build an imaginary wall between the two of them, even if it didn't really work.  
And he had collected all of this in a matter of three visits: three visits with a man who looked like he needed a shave and a comfortable pair of shoes... a good pair of stone shoes...

And for the wedding, it was very deciphered and full of superstition, which Murtagh couldn't see why they even bothered to do it.

The wedding was during September on a Wednesday with a bride wearing a '_simple_ blue dress'; at first, date itself was not yet picked on the first meeting and while Galbatorix toyed with it, the angry man who was supposedly father of this push-over for a wife demanded a Wednesday and a Wednesday it was.

Like how the wedding day was picked out, there were no rehearsals and the ceremony was slapped together. It was held on the first Wednesday of the month in a church that was dark and gristly and while the sun was up and it was shining in the west wing, it was still cold.

And it didn't seem to make this marriage any better for the young bride and her father arrived very early, she was not wearing a very suitable dress either: thin, flimsy, the sleeves went to her wrists and the dress merely went down to her feet with no lace, no train and nothing to boast about.

She looked like a mere beggar that had won the lottery as she stood beside Murtagh who was comfortably warm in his own dark attire and compared to his rather healthy glow, she looked like she was bound to catch pneumonia.

He suppressed a laugh under a grim frown but looked straight ahead and ignored the preacher who was making hand gestures and spoke in a language that was all but old (half of the time Murtagh was sure that the 'holy' man was making it up). And when he mentioned sealing the union (a familiar part to Murtagh) neither one seemed interested: she took a glance toward him before looking away while he simply looked ahead.

Seeing that the two were not interested in 'sealing' the Priest concluded the ceremony after a few minutes of chanting and a hymn, the 'wedding' was concluded.

Murtagh's new father-in-law shook hands and bowed Galbatorix, his new bride was having sighing fits and walked outside, and Murtagh wondered what Thorn wanted to do that day.

* * *

If you are reading this, then here is a treat for you: this chapter was revamped!  
Why? Because I felt that it needed to be changed. Granted, it's not any better to some people but eh, what cha gonna do bout it?


	2. Meeting the Nut

_Guess what? Check bellow!_

Random ass last name with a not so random name. I still ramble when I write. Shyte.

Note: Bare with me. I suck at writing.

Disclaimer- I do not own the inheritance cycle, for I did, everyone would have died by AIDs or something like that.

* * *

Chapter 1

Meeting the Big boss man

The girl or wife number five was named Lady Freyja De`Agustinet, a strange name for a person who came from a forgotten line of nobles who decided to live in the Hadarac desert.

She was seventeen years old and was already a widow for her late husband, a soldier in the Empire's army, was killed in a battle that the Empire had won.

To his family's dismay was that she couldn't bear a child quick enough to be considered useful so she was sent back to her family to be a burden to them.

As for her honeymoon to her new husband, she never had the 'joy' of having for her husband (or Murtagh as she was told) went off to stop the Varden on some mission and she couldn't think of anything to do or go anywhere to go for nobody was there to escort her to her new home.

Oblivious to the Courtiers, who were in the safety of their own homes and had just heard of this wedding from a pair of maids, began whispering about the two even through the marriage took place minutes ago. Everyone knew what happened to the last four and now here was wife number five to continue the pattern.

All around her, she couldn't really get enough warmth and sometimes she would uncontrollably shiver, however she didn't really mind. But it wasn't until she noted that a man was coming towards her and that man was the king.

She quickly got up from her bench and did a rather low curtsy, to the point that one knee was resting on the ground and practically dirtying her knee.  
"You may rise," The king kindly ordered in such a rather compassionate tone.

Once she rose and gave a bow, Galbatorix offered his hand and like any gentlewoman of her proper class, she accepted it.

"I am sorry for your choice of clothing, for your father is a very set on tradition and I very much respect such ways, so I couldn't disagree," he said as he took his own cloak off and rested the heavy cloak upon her small shoulders, "but I would like to talk with you".

Freyja nodded and walked with him, eager to hear him talk.

"I am terribly sorry for my impudence I am presenting upon you," Freyja sheepishly muttered, eyes averted, "I do not mean to be such a burden…"

To her, it was like being close to a powerful god. Who would not be afraid of him? Other than wife number one, three, four, and a few other people...

"You shouldn't be sorry, because if you say sorry, it would cause people to assume you are guilty of something, which you and I know you are not.

However, you and I both know who should be considered guilty. Wasn't the Varden the cause of your first husband's death?" He lulled tenderly, knowing how to easily strum heartstrings.

"Yes," she trailed lightly. The woman looked over at him again; the man looked too thoughtful and kind to be that infamous 'Mad King', so she continued slightly on, "He died in the first allied battle…"

But behind his kind appearance that lulled Freyja into trusting him, he calculated her worth to him.

He had already convinced her with ease, not like it was any hard to do. She was loyal and kind at heart, a trait that was now hard to come by due to the fact could easily be corrupted by confidence and arrogance. The very traits she had would have to be treated like a piece of fine iron for they could be molded into something great or they can easily broken.

Molding and fitting her would be easy for the time being, for Galbatorix knew that with Murtagh out of the way, it would be easy to convince her to love Murtagh and to be loyal to her king at the same time.

"As you might have heard, Murtagh, your husband, has had other wives before you," he commented as he noted that her pale eyes showed no betrayal of anger or worry, a good sign of having a cool mind, "And each one didn't bear him an heir, not even a girl child. And even if they did manage to become pregnant, I doubt they would make good Mothers.

"I hope you are able to survive, for you seem to be the perfect example of a good mother I have heard that your mother, may the gods bless her soul, had given birth to seven children, each one serving rather splendidly under my rule. And I can only hope you can produce just as many, for I doubt you would be pleased with just one child. As much as I wish you, I want you to have this as a token of good will and longevity".

He warmly touched her hand and turned it upward so that her palm faced him before he then laid a rather expensive looking ring into her hand and closed her hand upon it.

The size of the ruby was nearly as big as her index finger's fingernail and the embroidery of the gold had shown that it was manipulated by magic or skillfully crafted by a master.

But what the ring was actually a gift from one of Galbatorix's new allies: a Dwarven clan or two who thrown out their pride and wished not to be killed by the Mad King. One would assume that Galbatorix would have turned them down, but he accepted him because of two things: skill and money.

In his earlier years, Galbatorix kept himself in his castle as he meddled over spells, orders, and finances, and noted that the Varden was slowly buying off land from _his_ nobles and from _his_ land owners. At first, he somewhat feared he was going to lose financially until his own search party stumbled upon a city hidden that was hidden by magic in the Hadarac Desert.

But now that the city had willingly shared it's bounty and trades with the Empire and that the Dwarves were shedding their own skills, Galbatorix had now noticed that he was slowly gaining land back.

"Are you sure, my lord?" She asked as she opened her hand and stared at it.

"This is a splendid ring that was given to me, and I am sure you understand, I have enough jewelry as it is. I did not want to insult the person by putting it away and forgetting it nor did I want to sell it. So I am allowing it be worn please allow me to give you this for a gift".

As he looked at her, he was reminded by the many times he tried to get each wife to obey him.

Unlike wife number one who was far too arrogant for her own good and claimed she needed no help, number two and three was beyond controlling, and four tried to control everyone; he hoped this one was going to be better.

Freyja took up the ring ring and smiled as she put it on her index finger on her left hand.

She thanked him, but was ignorant of Galbatorix's true intentions: sick pleasure fell upon him as the young woman gazed at the trinket and marveled at its color. And as the ruby glowed in the sun, his control over her like a veil.

* * *

Did the same thing to this one: Revamped it!  
I hope you guys like it!


	3. No fruit basket?

I noted a film in my story. Re-did/ enhanced it, and add a new part. Bitch-tits

_Guess whaaat?_

Disclaimer: I do not any of the inheritance cycle, I would be making sure there would be more whips and chains

* * *

Chapter 2

Where's the fruit basket?

She felt like a toy doll: being dressed up, how to smile, and always look like a proud wife for future events.

During the first few days she had settled in the kind man, Galbatorix, kept cramming her brain with small things to do and say in such little time. It seemed that he was telling her to say polite and sweet things, as if he thought she knew nothing of little whispers of love.

And just this moment she stood before a mirror.

The design the man was aiming for a thick dark blue outer dress with a neckline that circled around her neck and a silver-white inner dress that had gold trimmings. This was her first dress to marriage and the next would be made next month and so on and so forth; unlike her last her last marriage where she would have a handy-me-down dress or on a rare occasion, a dress made specifically for her.

Once the tailor made his last measurements, he turned and beckoned a young maid to help dress her, who didn't seem to mind or care.

Freyja lifted her arms and allowed the dress to fall and reach her feet, the deep green fluttered to her feet as a brown band was tied beneath her bosom. As she finished, the maid help her put on a fine olive thick cotton over her head as a veil; while doing nothing but stand, Freyja couldn't help but eavesdrop.

"I am surprised that she is of age to marry, and so tiny but with child bearing hips. Humph, it's a shame she will not last," whispered the tailor.

"She doesn't seem too happy, smart girl. From what I heard, the only reason why they married her to Morzan's spawn was that her Uncle disgraced their family's name by talking against the Empire," an older maid replied in a low voice, "and even then, it seems this marriage is more like a sacrifice to the king's butcher in order to make people forget what has happened".

Freyja's ears began to sting, and itching them would cause scabs.

She didn't care if anything happened to her ears, as long as she didn't have to hear this. Her throat tightened as the maids finished and she turned to the maid and tailor, but their backs were toward her. Freyja cleared her throat and the maid turned to her with a passive face that showed no sign of guilt or shame.

"I would like to be shown my room... please".

"Of course, follow me, my lady," The maid said as they left the tailor's chambers.

This man wasn't really the only tailor in this castle for in actuality, there were a handful Tailors in the castle: the one she had just visited was where the higher classed courtiers went to, a lesser tailor who was for the lower class courtiers and then there was Galbatorix's personal Tailor. Materials, as well as skills and design, were limited to each rank, for you wouldn't give out an elaborate silk dress to a low class courtier and you wouldn't give a simple drab of cotton to a high classed courtier.

As maid lead her through the halls, Freyja couldn't help but notice paintings that were pictures that mostly from oil colors and paints showing scenes from countless battles won by Galbatorix who would always be in the front of each battle wearing silver armor shining in the sunlight that poured from the darkened skies and his cape that changed color from time to time. His face was turned in to the sky with a angelic arrogance and his hand somewhat pointing to the clouds to show how good and knowing he was as his enemies stood (or laid) beneath him.

But then this (mind you) was a bit before the period when he thought himself as a Saint before a God.

A small fact is that if you were to go closer to Galbatorix's quarters, the paintings would show him riding his black dragon Shruiken killing troupes of Urgals whose faces were twisted in already ugly horror and anger and slaughtering riders who were riding dragons that appeared to dwell in the brilliance of the black dragon. In some mosaics the dragon's maw was opened and it let out a pitch black fire burning enemies both humans, dwarves, some elves and mostly Urgals; these paintings were older then the ones around the castle and was preserved by spells.

The castle was a great piece of architecture that appeared in some terms old-fashioned yet it had a fine system of hidden walk ways and passage ways through out the castle, some were apparent but others only Galbatorix knew.

The interior changed whenever a fashion of furniture met to Galbatorix's liking, but then, whatever style Galbatorix used, it was quickly a popular style for all households. So, though the floors and walls were gray stones, rugs were more organically colored, furniture was was polished oak and pine, and marble statuettes to carved wooden figures of few animals, busts and other icons were set about. And since windows were installed, there were more openings in the castle and more light from the sun was used rather than needlessly using up the fat and wax of candles.

It took fifteen minutes before the maid brought Freyja to the western wing of the castle where the paintings of Galbatorix ceased and the walls were empty and flooring was barren, so their footsteps echoed noisily throughout halls.

They finally reached her room, or rooms, six in all, three on .

The maid opened the first door to the right: a study with a weathered desk with no other chairs except for the one behind the desk which that too looked very old, a few bookshelves and medium sized stand that held a bust of a woman: most of her hair was down up while the rest flowed onto her shoulders, and her mouth was done in a passive line and her eye lids were lowered halfway. Though to some the person posing for the bust looked not interested, but to others, she looked like she was giving a thoughtful look. While it is natural for any bust's features were supposed to be perfect, this one gave off a natural beauty rather than a superficial look.

"This is the study, which... will be in your use for the time being," The older maid said as she gestured casually with a flick her her wrist. She lead her out into the hallway and blandly looked at the other rooms, like she didn't really care to be here and she didn't want to be here, "These other rooms are of no importance, and you can go through them and change the to your liking".

They moved to the third room on the left and the maid opened the window, exposing a simple large bed that was perfectly made with feather stuffed blankets, cotton sheets, and feather pillows, there was a string of windows right across from them. Another door was on the door to the left hand side of the bedroom, which 'leads to the toilet', as the maid said as she brushed them outside.

"Is there anywhere else you would like to go?"

Freyja shook her head and so the older maid left without saying anything.

All Freyja was left with was two other maids who were fairly new and were younger than Freyja by five years; though they were twelve years old, they were not the youngest, for most younger children were stable-hands and was usually eight to seven years old.

While they said nothing and exchanged glances, their hands were folded before them and it appeared they were rather shy. Freyja opened her mouth and sighed as she closed it, but then walked into the second door to the right.

She moved the knob and frowned as she tried to open again. It seemed locked shut no matter how many times she pushed it forward and move or pull back and twist. Freyja rubbed her mouth and looked over to the last door and moved to it and braced herself she opened it as she half expected it to be locked.

Much to her surprise, it was an empty room with yet another door leading to it. Freyja entered and looked about; naturally it was just like any other room, but it appeared one side was perhaps longer than the other, or maybe shorter. Each minute she stood there, she didn't know if she felt threatened to be in the room or was getting frustrated by deciding if it was a small or large room.

She shook her head and walked out of the room, one of the two closed it but remained quiet and shadowed after her.

Freyja then looked to the first room, for the second was the toilet and she was not in the mood to use it.

Opening the first door on the left side, she found that it was a room full of mirrors of different shapes, sizes, and styles. Freyja looked to each surface, and wondered what was with the mirrors before she stopped and stared at a mirror with a gold vines entwining about the corners, but noted that each of the vines had thorns. She looked to the center to see a different woman looking at her.

The woman blinked when she did and when Freyja moved her hand the woman did as well, but the way the woman looked at her, she looked like she had a bundle of emotions over her face. At first she looked like she was sneering, then her face crumbled while her mouth became a crumbled line, she laughed for each vivid moment became still.

Freyja shivered as she turned to see the small children standing at each side of the door, almost clinging to the sides to stop themselves from entering inside the strange room. Freyja licked her lips and exhaled as she tried to form a smile.

"Is there anything you have in mind to do here?"

Her stay in the ward was bombarded with meeting and talking with Galbatorix, with each visit leaving her wishing that he could spare a few more minutes talking with her. Then she would come back to the ward, wondering what to do and how to spend her time.

Through the maids were a bit tedious at first, they slowly opened up and in between their duties played the ball and tax game, a game of riddles, and soon they even exposed what they were hiding in their skirts: dolls that were made with scraps of clothing with yarns of hair. One had a misshapen eyes and a crooked sewn mouth, while the other was drawn onto the doll with charcoal.

During this time, she learned that the older one by a month was Kristy and the youngest was Ginger. They looked related with their glossy copper hair, round faces, and freckles all over their face to their crooked smiles. While they looked identical, Kristy's hair was done in a braided bun while Ginger's had hers in a french braid.

Through they were not seasoned, they had a hidden knowledge that they kept to themselves without letting anyone know such as where most of the older servants put their possessions and when was the best time to take buns when they were warm and soft. When evenings came, an older maid would come to inform them in the hallway for the older staff would not go any further into the quarters and staying in the rooms for too long made the three young girls uncomfortable.

She was led out of the hall and through the mazes but on this particular day, she stopped, and it took a few steps ahead for the maid to notice this.

Freyja ran to the right side of the cross way and hugged a young man who had his back to them, but Freyja knew who this man was.

"Douglas, why are you here?"

It took a mere moment for him to recover, and Douglas, a rather tall yet thin young man with deeply tan skin, brown eyes and dirty blond hair that was pulled back in a pony tail, looked to her, simply grinned at her.

He wore the dark robe of the magician, which meant that he was apart of Galbatorix's infamous group of 'Pet Magicians' and a faint strip of dark blue went across his upper arm, which meant he was the elite but not in the upper class to master magicians.

"Of course I am here," he said before becoming stiff and releasing himself from her hug and made a few passes to make sure nobody but the maid was there and looked at the older woman. With a quick blink of the eye, he replaced her memory. "Lord Galbatorix heard of our city's talents and so your father allowed two of us to go and personally serve Lord Galbatorix. Finally the the magic we used to isolate ourselves has ended, and so we will be using it for the greater good".

Freyja smiled at her childhood friend.

"And to think, we would always try look out through the distance and wonder 'are we the only ones here?'. I cannot help but laugh at remember seeing the Empire's messenger come and everyone refused to cross his path!"

"Speaking of the Empire, is it true...?"

"What is true?"

"You are married to...?"

"Yes, I am married to... I guess you call him the Son of Morzan?"

"I hear bogeyman stories about him, and I have rarely had the opportunity to actually meet him face to face".

"I have not spoken no more then a sentence to him".

Douglas paused and seemed as if someone was calling to him.

"Really, huh? But we'll talk again, okay? I can see your maid wants you to supper. I hope we meet again soon," he said as he gave her a kind smile.

"Likewise, I hope".

* * *

_Yup, I reedited my original edit._


	4. Nothing good really lasts

Thank you to those who reviewed me. I had to face-palm myself for the mistakes I have made once they were pointed out to me.

Listing from the bottom on up!

The Last Rider: Thank you for your review and your understanding, terribly sorry for annoying you with skipping from head to head. To me, I just do not like putting 'So-and-so's Point Of View'. I tend to want to spread out what another is thinking rather than keep it singular. And being how they are so small and quick, I just don't bother with it.

As for your comment on I noted that a lot of heroines tend to be 'sweet' in the beginning but then have an umph of hormones injected into their character.

Separate Entity: Thank you very much; it's nice that you like it.

Also, I am such a lazy peeeeeerson. And now since I have internet, I will try to update.

: Freyja is basically a lamb amongst wolves, the best way to keep herself safe is to put up a front.

I do not own anything or anyone (except for my created characters) in the Inheritance Cycle, because I wouldn't have to wait for the fourth book.

At least the Suzanne Collin's finished HER series (A.k.a The Hunger Games)

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Chapter 3

All good things must come to an end.

The ninth month passed and the chill began to pass, causing the plants to wilt and the leaves began to change color.

In the tenth month the temperature had the crisp bites of winter with darker lines and the threat of snow appearing for farmers, warning them to be weary. Clothing became thicker and matched the leaves with the warm browns, dull reds, haughty gold, and bland orange.

Again, Murtagh did not return during these months due to a mission that turned into a campaign against the dwarves in the Beartooth valley.

Galbatorix would leave Urû'baen and would sometimes return, in either a good mood for he would always maintain his visits while trying to discover her potential, while on his bad days, he would not request for her.

As the tenth crept away, the eleventh came and in the middle of that month, snow began to fall and the materials darkened and changed from the warm colors and went to cool blues, violets, burgundies, deeper greens, and blacks.

From then, Galbatorix remained in Urû'baen but was more behind his desk writing away and giving the winter supplies to his armies and writing down orders and laws.

While not entirely forced to stay inside and away from the biting winter, Freyja and the two maids would manage to escape the warm confines of the castle and walk in the snow and play in it when it wasn't heavily falling.

This was a treat for Freyja to go and see so much snow compared to the probably centimeter of snow that that would rarely fall on the coldest of months and if there was rain if the clouds could spare it.

But while she did not meet up with Murtagh, Douglass and Freyja enjoyed reminding themselves of the hot sun and the baked ground.

He explained to her that he was moderate at other spells; he was advanced in illusions due to the fact that he was a part of the group to keep the city under wraps. But since he was a 'small town' magician and nothing more, he was placed on not-so-important duties and was pushed in with the rookies.

Even though he had duties to do, Freyja asked Galbatorix to let Douglas stay and Galbatorix curiously accepted, but the older man gave a friendly warning from when she wasn't around that in a way that wasn't to shield her, he would feel a slight pain.

The magician accepted, but was naturally intimidated by this and knowing how fragile Freyja was, he kept her in the dark in order to not worry her.

On a particular dreary frigid day, the two met in a library that was available to lower and middle class courtiers and servants. It was fairly large with several comfortable seats and was a good place to sit about for it had a good view of Urû'baen and its vast snow covered plains. However they were more interested in talking then looking out the window.

"I kid you not, the man's hair turned green!"

"Green? Like grass or blond hair with a tint of green?"

"It was much like a sea green but it was surprising for he had deep brown hair. Of course it was not so bright to start mixing the potions before being told of what they were. And once the head magician saw what happened, his head circled several times".

"Sounds very serious; does the head master always have a temper?"

"It depends. But oh, the few who laughed at the guy's misfortune received a punishment of reciting the full pronunciations and usage of the ancient Language. Even now, they recite them and let me tell you that is not a task to scoff at!"

The two laughed as he accidentally brushed against her knee and causing him to stopped as a full tremor of pain went through his body; Freyja stopped laughing as she saw him stop. She frowned was about to ask him what was wrong but he gave a forced smile.

"The head magician has called me, loud as ever. He doesn't seem to care if he hurts someone when reminding them they are needed," he said lying, but she nodded but she didn't seem to fall entirely for it.

"Then you should go, I would hate to see your superior yell at you face to face".

He gave her a deep bow and left before biting into his fist as the door closed behind him.

Freyja left the room soon after and walked through the maze of corridors before reaching her ward where she met her maids cleaning. She was able to request them to join her and the older maid allowed it but kept a hard eye on the young girls.

The day carried out with her playing with the girls, asking for scraps from the lower tailor and helping Ginger and Kristy make new dresses, veils, and bonnets for their dolls as well as giving each girl's doll a matching pair of buttons and a proper mouth. They then had an actual tea party with biscuits and tea of crushed mint leaves and honey.

They spent a good time talking about needless things and soon after, Freyja was beckoned to Supper once again. And once it was completed, she and the maids wandered about in more rooms until it was time for her to sleep where she was readied and slept under the many warm folds of blankets and soft feathers of her pillows.

'I hope this life would last…'

During the time she was there, she was allowed to go from room to room in nearly every castle with her maids tailing her, but next day, it was dificult.

People began to become more flippant, and the word 'Spawn of Morzan' and 'Lord Murtagh' was being thrown around, and soon everything had a boundary. Freyja's fun or her spring soon became fall and it was now hard to walk through the castle without bumping into someone.

Soon after in a matter of two days, her quarters then turned into a place where hushed whispers were heard and where plates that entered the room full but left empty.

Galbatorix knew of her isolation and would invite her to parties, and when the courtiers saw her, they saw a pale, well mannered girl that made people wondered if this blond woman was perhaps an illusion. Galbatorix during this time created a stronger bond between himself and Freyja without using magic by simply visiting her and bringing her small trinkets.

During the times she confided the ruby remained a bright star in her vast memory as her maids played the same games and Galbatorix would always bring up strange things that were alien to her.

Douglas would come but because he couldn't touch her, or so much as hug her as they did before so they were confided to bowing to one another. But regardless of their lack of physical touch, they seemed to make up for it by their hour long chats, jokes, and stories.

On the night of the sixth day of the week she heard cursing and not to mention footsteps echoed throughout the empty hall.

Her heart raced when they came closer, and in her mind she prayed that whatever was coming toward the room would perhaps go to the right then the left.

Not taking a chance, she slipping out of the bed and into a darkened corner and clanged to the small cracks of the wall.

To her misfortune, it did not happen the way she wanted it to.

The door was thrown back and slammed closed with a loud thud which echoed throughout the room and hallway. The words were still being thrown but now ceased into the door being banged upon.

As the banging finally stopped, the figure beside the door was hunched over and then leaned upon the wall. She heard him mutter a few things and relaxed as the footsteps from the other side of the door walked away quickly. She wanted to see who this was but remained at her corner, and looking between the figure and at window where the rare glow of the moon from clear skies.

The two stayed in their places for the rest of the night, not caring for the frigid bites of the cold upon their skin or their muscles beginning to ache and tingle.

The man was adjusting his weight to his other leg every fifteen minutes and Freyja couldn't help but shift her legs because she felt the numbing sensation of her feet going to sleep on her.

Despite their discomforts, they remained at their spots.

It was a sense of peace between the two that words would have ruined it; it was the sort of things hermits would seek and monasteries would have in between chanting.

Unaffected and perfectly unaware of the world around them, the two savored this rare silence like it was air. But like any moments like this, it had to end.


	5. On the wrong foot

Authors Notes.:. I have done up to 14-15 chapters, because of my lack of internet and I was fairly bored and I was watching movies on my laptop while writing these chapters. I watched a lot of Bonanza (1. The supposedly biggest gift shop in the world in Las Vegas 2. An old television series that was an old western with little to no plot improvement) and the complete 'Fist Full of Dollars' series. Which is where I got the name Douglas and another Character's name.

Nobody cares about Douglas, for he is the made up characters friend who will die, be forgotten, fall for an original character, or something else.

_heeey_

Again, thanks to and **_TheLastDragonRider_**

**_R.F_**: I LOL'd at your LMAO. _What did you expect them to do_?

**_TLDR_**: Thank you for your hard-truth comment... I think I am going to have to get used to constantly slapping my forehead and say 'Damnitalltohell' whenever you point a mistake. This is a slow fanfic as well, expect a filler chapter here and there :I

Oh yes, bare with me with my interpretation of Murtagh, please?

I do not own The Inheritance Cycle or any of it's characters, if I did, I would have made it about unicorns that could FLY and when they cry, their tears can cure any diseases (But with there being no Cancer or AIDs in the Inheritance universe...)

* * *

Chapter 4

Lessons are fine

I don't care if we're married

and

Lack of action (In bed)

This was one of the very awkward and unlikeable moments in his life so far (rather than the current events that was going on) as the sun began to rise, letting in a faint light into the room.

This woman could have walked out of the room, but she seemed rather comfortable _sitting there_.

Frustrated and a little angered, Murtagh took a step towards her and her response was to react like a frightened animal or a child: scurrying over the bed and on the other side of the room but not exactly out of the room.

He let out an annoyed growl, which did not help his situation whatsoever.

She, believing that perhaps she was somehow faster than him, began to slowly inch to the door and then made a break for it.

Acting on impulse, Murtagh was already there with a quick series of steps and gripped her wrists to her shoulders. She made a few noises when he did this, but he still held her hands in place.

Why should he care? This was _his room_; she had no right being here.

In retrospective, everybody was at fault: Murtagh was in pain and angry over hearing his true name being called over and over again and he was in no mood to listen or talk. The servants were weak willed and their mouths were not quick enough to tell him that his wife would be in there. And Freyja _could have_ gotten out when she had the chance, but she didn't.

"Well?" He asked, coldly, making her shiver at its intensity.

"T-they told me this was my room," she whispered in a weak voice.

"Really now?" He replied with harsh sarcasm, his hold tightened.

She tried her best not to cry, but with the way he was doing this, she couldn't help the small tears that began to form.

He stopped his hands from tightening as his eyes drilled holes into her skull.

She simply whimpered softly and tried to avert her eyes from him.

Quickly losing patience, he shoved her back; Freyja fell down and quickly scurried to a corner away from him.

He frowned while his eyes slowly sparked with confusion and letting out a pint up bark.

"Well? Are you going to insult me? Hit me back?" Murtagh asked in some disgust.

She simply hid her face in her hands and merely cried in response, Murtagh turned away probably to not look at her.

_You know, you didn't have to be that pushy..._

He turned back to her and walked over to her, noting her wrists: sure enough, there were bruises slowly appearing on her pale skin. People who would see these would think he was either very abusive or a very dominating 'lover' in bed.

Neither one sounded appealing.

"Get ready for breakfast," he ordered, somewhat editing his voice of any anger, "hide your bruises. I already have enough talk about me already".

And with that he left her alone in the room.

Through the window looked very appealing, a tinge of hope filled her. The ruby sparkled even brightly through the sun did not shine upon it, and so Freyja readied herself as she went to get her maids.

...

People earnestly looked at the now together couple, and quickly the two were the new topic of the courtier's conversations. The royals eyed them with curiosity and with bets were made against Freyja.

One of the nicer bets that were given against her was that she would last two months since the Son of Morzan was here.

Despite people being at the dining room, when king Galbatorix entered into the hall, they guarded their minds with strong barriers as they all put on smiles.

The Mad king wore an evergreen robe, and a black satin robe was tied upon his shoulders showed the earthiness of the robe. He gave a smile that made people squirm, Murtagh grit his teeth, and warmed Freyja's heart.

To Murtagh, Galbatorix, over these fifteen years, became a straightforward man, or rather, more of a bastard everyone wanted to kill even more.

Not only did he gain a few allies with the banished dwarves, finally 'negotiated' with Surda and kicked Orrin off of his throne and replaced him with an agreeable puppet ruler, but he did the one thing that perhaps crossed the line: killing Oromis was one thing, but handicapping the queen's daughter to the point where she could not use her legs was an outrage (to the elves and the Varden).

However any other information was hard to find.

All this did not personally affect Murtagh as it did with others. He was taught the stereotyped version of how elves were tree huggers and were an emotionless group of immortals who simply cared for nature as well preaching about how imperfect people (mostly anyone who anyone who wasn't elf) that were included with other lessons all this was from the teaching.

Galbatorix picked up a goblet, tested it for sickness and poison, and lifted it to up near the level of his head once it was considered safe for him to drink.

"I have good news. Murtagh has captured the Shadeslayer," and with this people gawked, "though he could have brought back the dragon; we can easily take advantages of this occasion! The Dragon may be a symbol of their hope however the rider had political significance to them as well as keeps them 'cozy' in their little tents. Moral will soon be lowered, the dragon will eventually be forced to recklessly come to us after feeling the need to free her partner or destroy everything in her path, and perhaps a halt on such decisions the Varden has planned that call for both rider and dragon. And if you would be so kind to ask me, the very story about this boy once being a lowly peasant to a powerful rider sounds like a fairy tale to me!"

His laugh echoed hauntingly through the hall as people muttered appraises to Murtagh and slowly went to work with the food given to them.

Galbatorix waited as the plate was filled to his liking and eyed Freyja, who was sitting on the right hand side of the table beside Murtagh who was forcefully placed beside Galbatorix. Her husband seemed to care less for food and glared into nothingness.

"I see that you are still wearing my ring. I would have never thought a woman of your appearance would only wear a small trinket," he commented as Murtagh's attention slowly turned to her. Freyja blinked, surprised by this.

"Of course, it's far too beautiful not to wear. I am very flattered a man such as your status had given me such a priceless ring, even though you have given me other gifts," She replied warmly, causing Murtagh to somewhat roll his eyes.

_'My, aren't you adding more praises to this damned Bastard's blown up ego?_' Murtagh thought, grimacing over her kindness for the selfish man.

…

During the entire twelfth and first month, snow fell and threatened to turn into a blizzard whenever it fell onto the ground in larger clumps.

By how this snow was falling, it seemed that winter was far from over.

Now since Murtagh was here, Freyja's maids became uncomfortable to be near her in the morning or in the night, and whenever she would talk with Galbatorix, they were lessons and were straight forward rather than evasive.

Galbatorix tried any and every ability she could possible do but with no luck, but there was a breakthrough: after patient hours and teachings they managed to find her role in life.

The King himself concluded that maybe her grandmother or her grandfather that served him was a magician and that his ability was passed onto her and possibly her other siblings.

What was so ironic was that this lesson was the very first thing a person of high status or of magical experience learned.

She showed that she had an inept ability to maintain a very strong defense, but her mind needed more strength breaking other people's defenses. Freyja didn't like the idea of entering into someone's mind, looking through their thoughts and then probably breaking their sanity but Galbatorix waved it off as if it wasn't such a big deal.

When she reached a certain point in her training, Galbatorix decided to allow her to test this out.

On the last week of the first month, he ordered in a forty year old man into one of his many the studies and by the looks of his clothing, he was a beggar. He looked about in fear and Freyja was getting worried as well, but Galbatorix rested a hand on her shoulder.

"He has been accused of killing a man, but there is no evidence of this but he has been spotted in the specific location of the killing and has sold property of the dead man," Galbatorix said, nodding towards the beggar, "but there has to be proof of this, and since everyone believes he did it, I can announce if he did the act or not. I would like you to see if he is guilty or innocent. And since he has no specific training, he shall be very easy".

Freyja looked at Galbatorix and nodded; she then looked upon the sputtering man and went inside his mind.

The man's mind was a confusing mess: the need for survival, the intensity of how he saw sex made her blush, images of a boy that made him feel proud, the rare sight and taste of a meal, and then the images of horror. The intensity of lies, the blood on his hands, and the bodies dug into messy plots.

She ripped out of his mind and felt small tears falling down her cheeks; the man was already confused by what was going on, for all he saw was that she was looking at him for a few minutes.

"He killed a family, two women and three men...".

Galbatorix's smile did not waver as he motioned the guards to take him away and hang him. He rubbed her back tenderly; but his touch was alien by the numb feeling of shock that fell upon her.

"Thanks to you, you have apprehended a killer! Congratulations, and you have passed your first test nicely, if I might say so myself. I am very proud of you, Freyja".

She smiled to him, but it didn't feel like this was something to rejoice about.

A few days after the hanging and Freyja's quick recovery she was brought in again.

But this time it was a young woman with dirty blond hair, world-weary eyes and scars.

Freyja looked upon this woman with pity and wasn't at all threatened by her for some odd reason.

The woman looked at her with a puzzled look and probed Freyja's defenses lightly, which Freyja kept up even though the woman meant no harm in the probing.

Quickly a conscience appeared, dwarfing the two and pushed the woman's mind back into her own mind. The woman growled but Galbatorix paid no attention to her but simply looked at Freyja.

"This woman is accused of committing treason against me. And I want you to help me see if this is correct. Your last test was fairly easy, but now I want you to, oh what's the word again? 'Dirty your hands?"

The woman glared at Freyja and before the younger woman could respond, the woman's mind slammed into Freyja's defenses.

Freyja had but a moment to be stunned but was prepared thanks to Galbatorix's training.

She made her mind into an airless substance, easily allowing the attacks to go through but do no damage to Freyja. The woman struggled to get a hold of her conscience but to no avail and every moment she thought she did, again but again, Freyja was one step ahead of her.

For a moment the woman wavered, and it was this moment Freyja jumped through her defenses and entered and quickly looked through the memories and thoughts of this woman: Constant thoughts of the 'Varden' filled with so many people looking war-torn, a dark skinned woman, and once Freyja was done, the woman noted this urgency and attacked, grabbing onto a thought.

And it was the memory her mother of which she savored.

The woman began to manipulate the memory: the sight of her mother lovingly holding her quickly became an ugly woman who was now strangling her.

Having to act quickly, Freyja tore away from the memory like an infected limb, and like a limb, it pained her greatly to part from it.

When she ripped herself away from the woman's mind, she quickly fled into behind her defenses, trying to clear her mind and understand what happened.

When she became more coherent she turned to the 'Mad King' and told him what she knew.

"There is a black skinned woman… plans about battles-".

"Are they in Empire uniform?"

"No, they wear scratchy clothing, some wear nice clothing while others seem to always wear different forms of armor...Varden is kept on being repeated and shown with the woman".

"You did perfectly. Through I believe you should try meddling into the minds of those snotty courtiers of mine in order to get better!" Galbatorix said cutting her off while smiling sweetly as he gave the woman one last look and a gesture. The woman made a sound of a gurgle before becoming limp. Freyja was pulled away quickly by Galbatorix's firm but tender grip but she thought she saw a knife in the woman's throat.

After what happened, his visits ceased.

As her visits from Galbatorix ceased, so did her meetings with Douglas, which was so rare lately, she savored it like how she savored sweets and silks.

"Douglas, you look so pale. Are you alright?"

She tried to touched his hand but refrained herself from doing so, remembering she couldn't touch another man or someone of lower rank.

This pained her greatly for during their childhood they would wrestle, hold hands in the dark halls during the night, and fly kites and other games with both their siblings.

"They've been working us hard. Each move we make the Varden makes another. It's very annoying, if I might say, but that's war".

"I just hope they do not work you to death, through".

"Only half dead. Because they still need me, for your father is rather stingy and refuses to let go of any of his other men."

"Have you heard of any news of home?"

"Sorry, I haven't".

"Ah..."

"But I have heard you aided Lord Galbatorix with the investigation of the woman. I am surprised you were able to go into her mind. Trust me, I tried doing it and I was lucky to make it back with everything intact".

"Really...? Thank you very much, Douglas, you always have the time to talk with me".

"And I thank you too; for you have always had the patience to listen to me complain".

. . . .

While day kept them apart, it was night that kept the couple physically together.

They shared the bed, but rarely looked eye to eye at one another. The void between them didn't show any growth or decrease, for now. And when morning came, Freyja would whisper a good morning and he would reply with nothing, a grumble, or a sigh.

Intimacy was out of the question, but that didn't seem to affect them or their relationship.

It was thing that they couldn't muster the nerve to share with themselves: their knowledge of the word 'sex' was different.

Freyja's new look upon it disgusted her when she saw the blood mixed with it had put a hold on her sex-drive. Murtagh was no virgin himself but he didn't like the thought of doing it with a young girl who seemed to cry at the first motion of pain or when she was angry

Nasuada, an enemy now, was a somewhat good choice for him, but now, she was considered just a bit over her prime.

Her face was lined with thinking lines (rather than laughing lines) and grim scratches of tiny scars littered all over her body and face. The very hair she fashioned when she was young was cut to that of a man's so it wouldn't get in her way. And she no longer wore women clothing unless it was for special occasions.

Once again, because of circumstances, she would try to kill him rather than listen to him say poetry and such, but then again he, was not much of a man for poetry.

* * *

_Yup did this one too_


	6. Fancy Meeting You

Consciousness

Thank you yet again to TheLastRider and Restrained. Freedom

I was yet again shitting bricks when I saw reviews, and now I think I can build a closet with those bricks!

_Guess what?_

So any-who-any-way, I respond do it alphabetically then.

Restrained. Freedom- Don't worry, this chapter will hopefully fill you in on how Eragon get's captured and yes, he is using Freyja, which is why I enjoy making Galbatorix so nice to her rather than the usual 'evilness' most writers portray him when he is wanting to get what he wants. I think I might mention it here and there, but won't leave an extreme affect onto her because of a certain ring…Oh yes, thank you for liking it and for sticking through to chapter number 5!

The LastRider- HORRAY! I am very happy! Through I still had to 'Doh' when you mentioned some errors. Yes, I know, all mixed into one. However, all that you read are two different chapters: originally, after the morning after the 'standing' it went to breakfast time and cut off from there; which then it went to her lessons and then their not-so-perfect moments. So I went 'F*ck it' and combined it and now it is the longest chapter in the entire series so far.

As for Douglas, he will get his moment, but not in a long while; the little things matter from time to time. And as for Murtagh's personality… You'll see it, but not right away since 'the morning after' he was annoyed, and further into this chapter, he is again: annoyed. You'll see his personality… In a chapter/section when it is his point of view.

Fair warning: I enjoy describing clothing, but I _HATE_ corsets. Nasty things that caused a lot of miscarriages and bodily harm to women, but fashion is fashion despite hurting. It's the same as how in China, women bound their feet, which again, due to how small feet were fairly attractive rather then commonly large feet, pain goes alongside with the demands of beauty back then (or even perhaps today in some cases). And I can say this: F*ck leggings and f*ck tunics for the time being.

Disclaimer- I do nor own Eragon, for if I did, I would so totally choose something other than Fox to create a movie off of my book.

* * *

Chapter 5

Fancy Meeting You

After the long, frigid winter and its feasts of encouragement, spring followed after and allowed farmers to start to work and lost family members were found underneath the snow.

Spring was the balance of life and death it seemed, and the frenzy of planting crops and money was poured for other materials. And though the adults worked, the snow fully melted, and the bodies buried, children would relish this time of the year as they do with the ever so haughty summer.

As the seasons changed, so did clothing for they shifted from their dark, cold colors to the lighter blues, purples, yellows, and reds and in weight and lighter colors. Fashions changed: corsets were simply forgotten and comfort was now in favor: necks were more open to the point that either exposed the entire upper chest or went even lower for the scandalous wearers. A band was tied to the in between the bosom and the rest of the lower body was loose, while the sleeves were bound, loose, loose upper sleeves bound lower and vice verse. Headdresses, through optional, were like before: cloth, gaudy, sparse, metal, or without. Women changed but the men's fashioned remained with all but their heavy material.

Despite such great weather, Freyja could barely walk outside without feeling the drab of boredom, stay inside and wait for her maids to finish their cleaning, re-read books, try her luck at entering the minds of birds, or wish Douglas had more time to talk.

To kill the dreaded weight of boredom, Freyja took advantage of the warm weather and decided to go pick the more abundant flowers around the walls rather than Galbatorix's luxurious gardens. She didn't have the heart to pluck any of the well taken care of flowers of the king so she simply watched the beauty of such plants and inhale their fragrance instead.

On one particular walk, Freyja managed to get away with not being chaperoned due to the fact that all the servants and such were busy.

As she went deeper into the garden, she couldn't help but note the change in scenery.

Guards doubled, but she managed to slip past them, hunching over and painfully crawling while making sure her dress would not rip but to her despair her dress became soiled with her near back aching attempt to get by.

When Freyja reached a dead end, she noted a surprisingly cozy window that looked like she could reach it but she wasn't sure; she tried and failed but couldn't help but let a frustrated sigh, but that did not stop her from trying.

As long as it didn't attracted the Guard's attention.

She looked around and closed her eyes, allowing herself to see into whoever was behind the wall, which to her luck, there was someone there so she slowly entered into it, allowing her mist-like mind to see if there were any chinks in the blockade. Freyja concentrated harder as she finally found one and tried to push consciousness through it.

. . . . . . .

While he wanted to sleep, he was in too much pain to even try to.

It was his fault, for he froze, despite their many years of conflict, hate, sweat, tears, and blood they had between each other.

What was going through his head? Did it scare him?

He had always done this again and again, but he would always reach a certain point and would retreat back but he was so close.

His mind returned to that day, which to him was known as his greatest mistake: the day he was caught.

Saphira, worn from so many battles had fought along side him and with the green egg that was forever a beacon in the horizon was far from reach yet always seemed like it was so close. For every step they took towards getting it, Galbatorix would push it away from them but keep it in full view as a way of taunting them. And they would angrily try and get him back with retribution but it still didn't get them the egg.

As Eragon stared at the crack behind the right corner of the room, his ind slowly drifted into his memories.

His mind was fresh with what happened to Arya who was now a cripple: her face of total defeat and the anger of the Varden rung in his mind and ears. Galbatorix wouldn't get away with this, and Saphira reminded him this as they slaughtered so many waves upon waves of soldiers before they saw that familiar crimson glint in the light powdery blue sky.

Her very body rumbled and smoldered, like magma being thrown out of a volcano, and once Thorn, who was now the same size as Saphira, was near, she erupted in a blue fired rage and the other Dragon simply drove right in and allowed his talons to dig into her chest and scrap at her belly.

In the beginning, Saphira would get the upper hand as did Glaedr before he 'died', but now she was evenly matched since Thorn had grown into her size. The Red Dragon had the power to do as much damage and more to her now; it was apparent that after the many times he was beaten and torn apart, he gained experience from it and gave it back to them tenfold.

He aimed and mauled at anything she dared to hit him with and every time Eragon used _Brisingr_, Murtagh would use _Zar'roc_ in return. They did this so many times, it seemed like it was a forever continuing pattern.

But this time, Eragon was going to make this different.

Waiting at the perfect angle, he launched himself at Murtagh, when Saphira was holding Thorn in one place; but only for a minute for right after he jumped, Thorn pushed her back, allowing the two riders to collide which allowed the other Dragon rider a little time to react.

Murtagh was caught by surprise, his upper body fell back as far as he could and a string of pops not from a broken back but from a good stretch. This annoyed Eragon, for he angrily asked fate why Arya broke the lower half of her spine and Murtagh simply got away unharmed?

Eragon lifted _Brisingr_ in the air with his free hand, feeling the rush which he assumed to be righteousness fill him.

He quickly used his magic to undo the straps that held Murtagh on the saddle and quickly the two fell to the ground; Murtagh quickly softened the fall but knew he was caught as their dragons wrestled away from them.

The bleak sun hit the blade and reflected a surreal pale grass made Murtagh's features stand out. And at that moment, the two locked eyes, their expressions were muddled with dirt and war while lines of anger, doubt and anxiousness littered about each others expressions.

Murtagh seemed at once relaxed, and a grim smile spread upon his face.

'_Is he accepting his fate again?_'

The younger dragon rider paused.

"Well?"

But it seemed everything left him: this wasn't exactly going as he wanted.

He thought of so many things to say and think but it seemed that nothing was thought of or said; did he want some sort of sick pleasure or unfathomed pity towards his half brother? Why did his body stop when his brain and mouth stopped as well? This seemed too much for him to handle for just one thing.

_Eragon! Take it! Thorn is trying to-_

But Murtagh was no fool of chance; he took immediate advantage of it and took over as he quickly pushed Eragon off and slammed him in the head with the pommel of his sword. Holding Eragon down with his foot (and making sure his entire weight was being pushed down) He aimed the_ Zar'roc_ before Eragon.

His eyes glowed dangerously and a sneer was over his face as now it seemed to him that Eragon was not going to full-fill his wish. Eragon knew that Murtagh now despised him for what he didn't do: killing him, putting him out of his misery, and allowing himself and Thorn to be free.

"You_ pity me_, you bastard?" Murtagh asked quickly with metal rings of disgust and anger filling his voice, but to Eragon, it seemed slow, "_I will make you regret it_".

His mouth quickly moved and the words seemed far from his understanding.

Eragon lifted his arm in front of him as Murtagh lifted _Zar'roc_ over his head and with his last ounce of strength Eragon push him away with magic before he turned and was about to leave before he stumbled forward and fell into the ground.

Eragon's vision quickly became muddled as his memories seeped away and reality came back as he was now once again staring at the crack. First felt his legs grow numb, and then his arms, body and his teeth were beginning to oddly buzz as his vision faded. He could have sworn heard Saphira cry out his name, but he had to make sure she was not going to get herself caught.

'_Go_,' he simply said as he could feel the hands of so many consciousnesses push him into the abyss of darkness.

The present came back to him as hunger wrung through his stomach.

He nodded on to sleep from this memory still in his mind before he felt something.

What was it?

He felt a probe try to enter into his mind, it would be hard to attack this one, but he was far too used to probes to consider this one a threat. He shoved it back and heard a sharp gasp from behind the wall.

Struggling to get up, he slid down painfully, his muscles weak and his bones felt like they could break at any moment. Clearing his throat, he raised his voice high enough so only he and this strange person could hear one another.

"Hello?"

The person paused as he could hear the rustle of a dress or perhaps a gown come closer to the wall to the point that he could hear this person breathe.

"Hello," a girl's voice came from behind the wall; he noted that she was not yet an adult.

"What are you doing?"

"I wanted to see who was behind the wall".

He paused, how could a girl even be around here?

"What's it like in there?" she kindly demanded.

Eragon paused, and then slowly thought of what he would say.

"A little damp, dark, nothing you'd like".

"Sounds like a dungeon".

"You can say that... What is it like out there?"

How many times did he speak before thinking?

"The grass is green of course, angel hair is abundant, gypsy lace is thriving and daisies are everywhere to pick... but".

"But what?"

"I cannot say a roses, lilies or other fine blossoms and flowers"

"Why not? Roses should be able to be picked".

"I can't. They are Lord Galbatorix's roses. It would be awfully rude to take one".

Eragon muffled a laugh.

'_Rude to that man?_'

He wished he could coax her to pick as many roses as she wished to.

"Oh dear," she replied, "They are changing guard ... I wish we can talk a little more rather than talking about the inside of a room and the gardens... My name is Freyja by the way, but hopefully I will be able to know yours tomorrow".

Her eagerness to speak to him was heartening, it seemed to vanish at least five or so minutes later, when the door opened.

Eragon's skin began to sweat and his stomach shrunk.

* * *

_Random rant time_

A funny fact I noted from Shur' that Saphira, Thorn, and the egg could be related... and because there are no other PHYSICAL dragons around, then it is basically incest or is it okay since they are animals/lizards/birds(?*)

*Jurassic Park that brought up the bird theory when I was young.

Oh yes, I did it again: I know who is this person at the doorway and you don't. Hm, use your imagination for this one.

Eragon killed an endangered species! If PETA existed in Alagäesia , they would totally try to grill Eragon's ass. Screw the dragons, they already have a female and a few males left.

I also suck at action scenes

_Oh yeah, I totally re-did it._


	7. Family Bondage Time

Oh hey guys! Because I am on day two on having a sore throat and a runny nose and there is smoke coming from the mountains (well smoke is engulfing them is more like it) and I can't help but think this is the one of the banes of my existence.

Also, I made sure Murtagh was true to his word: Eragon doesn't have Mr. Righty any more D=

Restrained. Freedom- Don't worry, I won't let that happen. I prefer the just friends thing through I am sorry I made wrote that they were going to be something more.

* * *

Chapter 6

Family bondage time

Freyja sat on the bed; her mind happily went over questions she wanted to ask this strange person. The way he spoke reminded her of her deceased husband, the two of them would nibble on dates while she sat on his lap and he would read one of his books. She frowned at the thought of the message of her husband was pronounced dead but the ruby shined her discomfort away. Undoing her hair and combing it with her right hand, her mind slowly went over memories of home.

Freyja looked behind her to her husband's side: it had been bare for the past two days. She averted her eyes and crawled to his side of the bed and positioned herself the way he usually slept.

She pulled the covers over her and pulled the pillow closer to her, but she frowned. Inhaling such a strange scent, she couldn't help but think he would come in, but she knew he wouldn't do that.

She was almost like a masochist as she had this urge to see him more, no matter if he was sad, happy, or angry.

His bristling intimidation reminded her on what snake do: rattle its' warning, allow its' tongue to smell it's prey and it's beady eyes glint dangerously but it would always cease once it is left alone.

Even if he was not an animal (much less a snake) his words seemed to infect and fester into people's mind until they are left with annoyance, anger, or indifference oozing from their minds into the emptiness of nothingness.

She closed her eyes and became use to his smell.

'_I wonder where he is…_' Freyja thought before she sluggishly slipped into her dream.

. . . . . . . .

Saying he wasn't a sadist was half true and denying that he was seemed like a tiny lie.

But allowing that anger and that pain to just be let go felt entirely up-lifting; for now, he wasn't the one who was getting the taste of pain. Eragon was, and this no longer made him feel uneasy.

It was _Eragon's_ fault, for killing him then and there would have avoided all of this pain and all of this stupid 'summon your dragon or you'll get this'. It was a useless battle which Eragon would refuse and get a finger broken, a cherry red poker laid upon his side, neck, or other limbs.

It was annoying how his younger brother would always clench his teeth in pain and allow a shaken scream out; it made Murtagh want to hurt him even more.

His mind slowly lingered back to the moment he captured the other dragon rider.

Once Murtagh was able to get away from Saphira and the Varden, the red dragon rider kept true to his word: holding Eragon down with magic and his foot in his younger brother's right arm, he held not Zar'roc but the sapphire blue sword and brought it down upon Eragon's waiting wrist and sliced it off.

It was surprising how quick it was and how clean the cut was that the chill of the Zar'roc touching his back made him wonder how he was even able to still be alive.

And he still remembered what Thorn said as Murtagh moved his foot from Eragon and wiped the blood onto the grass.

_That was a little cruel, don't you think? Using his own sword to cut his hand?_

In retrospect, it was fairly cruel for him to do that, but he wanted to prove to Eragon that not everything was going to be perfect.

A gruff sigh was heard, causing Murtagh to come back to reality and watch as Eragon's fingers were being twisted out of their sockets.

They wouldn't fully rip them out, for Galbatorix informed his men that they were to keep him intact and so whenever a finger looked like the skin barely keep intact, his back was momentarily burnt or almost crushed, Murtagh would have to heal him and then step back and watch them earn their money's worth.

The older brother no longer cared now for him now; rebellion was useless and he simply watched what he said.

All he could do was glower at everyone and give people some of his pint of rage; it was hard to actually take people serious now since all they did was say one thing and do another, lie, or suck up. Which was exactly what courtiers, royals, soldiers, and practically everyone did.

Nobody was perfect.

Murtagh narrowed his eyes onto Eragon's fingers, and rolled his eyes and sighed. These men were getting far too into this and had to be reminded.

The Red Dragon rider allowed his mind to reach into the mind of the two men doing their job and into Eragon's mind and allowed a high pitched sound scramble into their mind. It was a nifty trick he learned a while back that proved useful for so many occasions and this was one of those occasions.

The men backed away, squeezing their eyes and their ears naturally went to their ears while Eragon could barely keep put up his defenses.

Walking past the men, Murtagh simply moved off the finger crusher and then pointed to the ruined finger and muttered 'Waíse heill'.

He controlled and manipulated the energy he was giving to Eragon, only allowing his hand to be healed and nothing more.

As he finished, he stopped the sound and backed away once the two scrawny men began to regain their composure and throw glances filled with deadly daggers at Murtagh.

Of course, they knew the Spawn of Morzan didn't care, they believed he fed off others hate like how they breathe air, which was moderately true. Murtagh hated these two as well because they reminded him of the damned Twins, but surprisingly, they weren't even related much less looked alike. But with their malicious minds and creeping joy of pain, he couldn't help but hate them.

This went longer than usual and went through the entire night before they knew when to stop: the two men were getting tired and they were earnestly straining their ears for the crow of the rooster and Murtagh was getting tired of simply hearing the screams and having to heal Eragon again and again. When they finally noticed it was slightly overcast and by looks it was already around eight, so they left Eragon in a tired, flinching heap and locked the door behind them.

The two men took the servant's entrance, while Murtagh took the other where the soldiers tend to use due to the fact that courtiers weren't entirely encouraged to be around here.

He made it through the hallways where he finally could see a gaudy group of courtiers whispering about who was sleeping with whom or who was getting more money. Their high, undisciplined voices annoyed him but if he dared to take a jab at either one, they would run to Galbatorix who would be more than happy to remind Murtagh where the clothing on his back and the food he ate came from.

_Get some sleep._

'_Easier said, then done_'

_Your anger is slowly getting to me again and I doubt Shruikan would allow me to vent it out._

'_I will, don't worry_'.

_And your mate-_

'_Just say her name_'.

_Freyja isn't there. She left an hour ago, so you can sleep as long as you want._

'_Thank you_'

Entering into his room, he frowned and looked out the window. It was near the afternoon but because of the weather, it was dark and rainy. It didn't seem so terrible by the looks of it, and it wasn't thundering, so it was a plus.

He fell upon his side of the bed and let out a sigh, inhaling the light scents of roses and almond oils hidden cleverly under his own. But he was too tired to put up a fuss and so entered a peaceful state with strange dreams.

...

Not as perfect, but eh

I think Brown Recluses are mean S., and at least Rattlesnakes use some warning before actually attack (But I am not saying that they always do)

And I am not even going to mention Black widows


	8. Would you prefer cookies instead?

Day three (and last day) of my sore throat! Right now I am popping cough drops left and right like candy.

I just figured out I CAN REPLY TO REVIEWS ON THE REVIEWS! And it just dawned on me that I can post notes ABOVE and BELLOW my story. Oh snap!

But I am still going to keep replying before I start the story!

_**Reverse alphabetical order!**_

TheLastRider- I think I will add Pronouns to the list of the banes of my existence… I think she was able to survive by just sucking up to Galbatorix. I never thought I made it look like they hated each other, with Freyja she is just easily intimidated by him and with Murtagh I made him not an easy guy to know and not the kind of guy to be friendly in such a short time. Freyja IS lucky, and if she lasts a whole year, she is going to get an entire set of kitchen knives! As for their rocky relationship, I didn't want the cliché instant few chapter love, so yeah, very slow progress. I think you're going to loathe me for a while since I am being Grammar retarded all the time.

Restrained. Freedom- Freyja is just wondering where he is because it has been a few days since she seen him. About his hand, don't you remember in Brisingr when Murtagh crashes the wedding and told Eragon wouldn't need his right hand where they were going? I couldn't say 'Yeah, Eragon lost Andy-Ann, now he had Lesley-Lou as a handy buddy'. As for Murtagh, I think he would have hard feelings for Eragon 'not finishing the job' as he wanted. Since he is wanted by the Varden, the Dwarves want to kill him, and there isn't anywhere to go, Death could be a last resort. And I think Murtagh would prefer Eragon (his younger brother) to kill him rather than some stranger.

NR137- Thank you! And welcome to the party! Eragon has been through worse (being out of character, constant beatings, being insulted, etc.) But don't worry! He _ALWAYS_ makes it out! Well… maybe not in one piece.

I do not own the Inheritance cycle, and if I did I would have Galbatorix be Eragons' father! And that Jeod would explain to Eragon that both Broms' and Morzans' anger killed Selene (pft)

* * *

Chapter 7

Would you prefer some cookies instead?

An hour or so before Murtagh went to bed, Freyja awoke to see he wasn't there, and was hoping for him to have woken her up and order her back to her side. Yet as she was doing her usual routine, she couldn't help but distastefully think she was a masochist as she took her time eating breakfast.

And while she belittled herself, Freyja looked about yet couldn't find Ginger or Kristy; for it seemed everyone forgotten to tell her that Kristy had to stay in the maid's quarters because of a cold and Ginger was granted pardon from the head maid to go into the city and take care of her mother.

While Freyja was rather disheartened her two maids, she decided that she would go to the man behind the wall.

The rain, not exactly a friend or a foe to her, rolled about and was practically soaking her; someone who lived in this sort of weather would have quickly donned a cloak while Freyja simply disregarded this. What was a little rain going to do to her?

Returning back to the wall, Freyja walked over to the wall and considered what to tell him. Once she decided, she knocked on the dripping wall.

"Hello?"

A weak groan was heard, causing her to jump back for a second and then back to the wall, her hear pressed upon the icy cold brick. Though it took a while for him to answer, he sound very weak, which made her a little worried.

"Oh... it is you".

She didn't mind what he said; it was rather pleasing to hear his voice.

"Did you just wake up?"

"Kind of... But right now... I am a bit-"

"Hungry?"

"You can say that..."

She smiled and nodded, even though he couldn't see it.

'_He must have over slept and does not do so well with an empty stomach,_' Freyja thought as she gathered her soggy dress.

"I'll be right back," she said as she silently hurried off to the servant's entrance to the kitchen.

. . . . .

Eragon was very relieved to hear a voice other then Murtagh or one of those damn torturers. He didn't have the energy to call her back, but then he changed his mind, for if she was capable of coming here, she would have no worries going to the kitchen.

Feeling as if hours went by, a small package miraculously onto his chest, he jolted from it, thinking it was a poker or a foot but reminded himself that he was the only one in the room.

Eragon weakly opened it with one hand and to his relief it was filled with dried fruit, a morsel of roast lamb, and three slices of warm bread that felt like they was taken out of the oven. He noted a dried fruit that was in the shape of an oval and the color of it was dark brown.

"Is this a...?"

"Hm? The fig or the date?"

"A date?"

"Yes, that comes from our palm tree groves in the desert; we dry it so it can survive the trip over to Uru'bean. They are very good, but I wouldn't eat them everyday".

Eragon smiled as he ate it and noted the sweet grainy inside and the leathery outside.

"Tell me, where do you live?"

"I came here from the Hadarac desert, where-"

"Pardon me for cutting you off but the Hadarac desert?"

"Oh yes, the desert, my great-great grandfather found and helped created a city surrounding a patch of watering holes just beside one another. After the city was constructed, he managed to get a few magicians and create an illusion to which nobody can see it. Over the years, only people needed or were close friends were only allowed in the city and other water sources were found and kept secret. It was only a year and a half ago when the Soldier from Empire entered".

"Was he alone?"

"No, there were a whole slew of magicians with him".

"So, did your father order for their death?"

"No, for he remembered that his great-grandfather, my great-great grandfather was one of Galbatorix's elite soldiers. So he allowed the man to live and heard him out".

"Ah... but your home, what is it like?"

"The buildings were made of mud bricks with fine rock powder and straw, they were always bleached white under the sun. There were farms on the outside the walls which they grew potatoes, corn, carrots, and other things, no matter how dry it would get, there would always be water my father would supply to everyone".

"And the soil, what did they use to make it fertile?"

"Cow and horse droppings and peelings from food".

"Mm, very wise..."

"Where did you come from?"

"Hm... A hamlet in the Spine where, unlike the desert, we have the four seasons and water is easy to access and there are deer, boar and other animals to hunt, but at the time, I was not so good a hunter".

"It sounds like you did all you could to help provide for your family... do you have any siblings?"

Eragon paused, before answering.

"Only one and we used to live with my uncle," Eragon said as he fumbled the silk in his hands. Roran was a far closer sibling to him then Murtagh was now.

"Only one?"

"Yes, do you have more?"

"Only seven from my actual mother, the youngest is six years old right now, I am the third oldest, and my only older brother is twenty. But then once my mother died giving birth to my youngest brother, he married and so from my current stepmother, I have three other siblings and another on the way".

"That is a lot of siblings… I do not mean to be rude, but, do you love your youngest brother?"

"Yes, I do. He is very bright and mischievous, and he always knows what to say. And as for me, I am… expected to have just as many children".

"Oh? You're married?"

"I am. Though, I wish I can understand him".

"What do you mean?"

"He is so distant and perhaps he hated me, probably because we are not I do not know... in love?"

He wondered why she was married to him but he quickly could see that it was more due to matchmaking.

Unlike Freyja, Eragon was not married, and was given the freedom to share whatever happiness he wanted because of his long lifespan, he was far out of reach from the matchmakers and the short-lived girls and he wanted to share it with his broken lover, Arya.

"By the way, I never caught your name".

"My name?" Eragon asked after having the luxury of eating, Eragon's dulled senses and his mind began to work again slowly. Despite not having anything to drink, it didn't seem to faze him, but already he could sense people a mere thirty or so feet away where two familiar spots hit him: the day torturers were coming.

It was a miracle that the young girl did not appear when he was being beaten.

Whenever Murtagh was around, they would go 'soft' on him, but whenever the other rider wasn't around, they went all out. Despite their not-so-perfect relationship, Eragon knew that Murtagh did not come to relish in his pain but to make sure he wasn't entirely broken, or at least he hoped the red dagon rider didn't savor his pain.

"Tomorrow"

"What?"

"Come back tomorrow and I will tell you".

He heard her falter before getting an answer.

"Very well then… good bye," Freyja said as her footsteps splashed away and the material slithering after her.

Eragon ignored his tensing muscle spasms and the groaning of his bones as he supported himself upright. Reaching into the energy he stored, he knew this was his only chance.

They were now closer, for their voices and their smell had reached Eragon, but he anxiously waited until they opened the door and casually walked in.

_Letta._

. . . . . . .

Walking back to the gardens, Freyja couldn't help but shiver. Desert nights were cold during the winter, but they did not add up to the spring rain that fell unfeelingly on her.

'_Did I stay for an hour? Or perhaps five minutes? It doesn't feel like it…_'

Her feet began to drag and she looked at the sky and somewhat frowned at how white it was becoming.

'_Where is the gray…?_' Freyja thought before having a series of spasms hit her.

She gave one last shiver before fainting into the ground and allowed the mud to slowly embrace her.

* * *

**What an AIRHEAD!** Next thing you'll know, she probably start thinking that touching hot surfaces won't hurt. (pft)

I said a few chapters back that I made up to chapter 14 (wait… 17 or 18 I believe but right now I am taking it easy with updating.)

Because of my lack of internet all summer, I dusted this project off and tweaked a few things here and there like Freyja was a brunette and her name was Magdalena but I changed it.

A bit before, I was thinking that Murtagh could be a total asshole and send the Varden back his hand, but then, in the back of my mind I thought, 'wouldn't it be weird if they preserve it and reattach it when they get Eragon back?'

And here is a spoiler: This story does not have a perfect ending, but it isn't going to be like Hamlet.


	9. Protecting a Meal ticket

Retrained. Freedom- It's good to know you're ready for anything and everything!

TheLastRider- Sorry about that, but I am glad that you're glad about the story being a little better, even though a few things are choppy (if I could, I would totally be a killer with a knife)

NR137- Don't worry about it… through personally, I am not a hardcore Twilight fan (But team Jacob FTW) but I do understand where you're coming from. If the characters are written 'respectfully', then I can say: 'These are some nice guys', but if either one is portrayed as a different person, I just lose interest in the story.

Also, sorry about the iddy-biddy thing on my profile… But about this chapter, I hate. Why? Galbatorix just loses his cool and how he acts disappoints me because I know there are better ways for him to act but I am lazy, I stayed up until 4:45 AM(I do not know why), my index finger is swelling up, and I am being a little air head right now.

I could care less about this chapter... That and the mistakes in it but I hope you enjoy it.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, because if I did, someone would have made a Monty Python References

* * *

Chapter 8

Protecting a Meal Ticket Safe

A Gardener found her on the wet ground soaking wet and probably close to death. Nobody knew how long she was outside or why she wasn't with anybody would have sparked rumors if it weren't for Galbatorix.

Freyja, wife number five, was able to beat everyone's bets, but all this was because the spawn of Morzan was barely there most of the time. But now nobody was in the betting mood; servants were too busy gathering warm blankets or rubbing the young woman while the courtiers became surprisingly sheepish and made sure they were not heard by their king.

Galbatorix ordered all but three servants and all of the day guards to assemble into one of sitting rooms that had a fire place but it was not lit and the room had no window so it was thick with body heat and fear. Everyone's back straightened when they heard the ominous steps of their mad king coming to the room. Some maids wanted to cry but the others managed to stop them from doing so, reminding them that if Galbatorix saw such a tear, he would instantly find you guilty.

The Dictator entered the room, his eyes were shining rather brightly, his mouth exposing his ferocious sharp teeth, and the uncomfortable air seemed to have been sucked from the entire room to the point that there was no air left to breathe.

"What is this?" His voice rang, causing everyone flinched began to resemble small useless deer. This made him more irritable and blood thirsty, but Galbatorix hands were behind his back, he slowly paced making eye contact with just about anyone and everyone.

"I give you the task of looking of this young girl! I expected you to take it upon yourselves to care for her, and that we were to guard this young woman! And what do you do? You indulge in your own gluttony-" he locked eyes with a maid whose eyes rolled into her skull and dropped down dead, "and your laziness-" two watchmen and a servant fell down dead in the same fashion, "Now what will I tell her family if she is to die? That because it now appears a mouse is far better at guarding her then any of you insects. They won't give me a bonus, the bonus that pays your damned salaries, put food upon your plates, and allows you to wear more clothes then the Varden!"

His became rigid as he stared at the guards and serving staff to death and it was a miracle that they were able to survive.

" And you stand here? Go! Leave me sight, you worthless pieces of walking unwanted miscarriages! I do not want to look at rodents any longer!"

Everyone ran out of the room, quicker than that of the infamous minutemen but Galbatorix still stood with his hands to his back. Everything was not doing well, and granted he could heal her with magic, but if she was out any longer, he would have to hide her body and use another girl to pose as her. Her looks were fairly common among upper class daughters, and he knew that the men of these daughters would do anything as long as it would pay their loans.

"And of course, if she's dead, then no heir! Oh that damned brat. Need I make him have sex with her? Need I be there? Oh wait, that damn bastard is too shy for that kind of thing," Galbatorix muttered as he casually left the room and into the hallway where again, he was alone. Thinking back, he almost missed the '_good old days_', "it was so easy back then. Morzan would jump upon Selene at the drop of a hat, and I would have to say Brom did his due as well for jumping the same woman. What a deadly little whore she was".

He then went down a few flight of stairs and then to a hallway to the last room on the left. There, the maids were keeping the girl warm and the royal physician was checking her vital signs. The maids bowed and he bade them out, he waited until they were out of the hallway before allowing the physician to talk. The royal physician managed to stand up straight without trembling and managed to bow but Galbatorix ignored the man and sat near the head of the bed and looked down upon the young girl.

"Well?"

"She merely has a cold but she is showing signs of great recovery".

"Is she showing any signs of being with child?" Galbatorix said in a kindly tone.

"No, but surely-"

The man fell down dead.

Galbatorix touched her wrist with his index finger and diagnosed her.

"Well, I'll be damned".

_Don't lump us in the same category..._

"He was right, but why couldn't she have a miscarriage instead of nothing at all?"

Disappointed, he touched her conscience and made her wake up.

"Oh... Lord Galbatorix..." Freyja said as her eyes slowly opened.

"Freyja... my dear Freyja. You put everyone in a real scare lately, silly child!" Galbatorix said softly, giving a warm smile, "Oh, no, you do not talk, you are already wasting your much needed energy but since you are awake, will you stay up for a few moments or so?"

Freyja weakly nodded, smiling as her eyes blinked but threatened to shut. He knew she was not exactly all ears. She was in a fairly deep delirious state that it was doubtful she'd remember all of the conversation, but Galbatorix could have cared less.

"Now that you are safe and your health will return, I will ask much of you, and you must not disappoint me, for I have a terrible temper. Oh, of course you haven't seen it, you are such a good little woman that you would go to certain lengths as to speak of nice things and mean it. So few care to do so, and not even my bards have done it for me in a long while. Bards, bah! Who needs them? Their heads in the clouds and sing of nonsense that are half truth or fake! I just love to see them fall down in seizures, especially the tiny ones. But you are a jewel amongst that of rhinestones, and for that, I shall treat you thusly, no matter if my attention is upon the other, for you are the wife of my loyal rider Murtagh.

"Oh, don't worry about him, shh, shh. He is a hard boy to understand and let in, always thinking of himself as the bleeding heart and such and that he is the only one that feels pain. But you, sweet little Freyja, shall let him see some light in his life, won't you? I would hate to see deep cuts on your wrists and neck! Or for you to be on the floor dead! That would be very annoying and terrible, and I would have to wipe out your family, the thought of it is rather annoying and such and a lot of people would join that god awful Varden. Then I would get another girl for him. Humph! Don't need any of that, do we? Yes? Yes!

"Now I need you to have a child, Murtagh's child of course because it would be very disgusting for a woman of your rank to dirty herself with some man. But you're not much of a woman who throws herself at others. I know you are fertile, and you won't have a miscarriage or a fake pregnancy because I always see upon the girl I choose for Murtagh, the ungrateful little brat, and once she is approved, I can't help but think of what a fine child you would bear to me".

Galbatorix's smile became warped and Freyja simply nodded sluggishly and grin loosely.

"Now, look at me ramble, and I did promise you a few moments of talking. Remember to have a child, for I might drop by for a few 'visits', and I would like it that you have a stomach on you with a living baby in it! If you are not after three visits... well that is for me to know and you to find out! Sleep, little Freyja, sleep".

He pushed her back to sleep; with that, he went into her mind and edited his speech, knowing that her image of him was that of a kind man and any talk of torture and such would push her away. He had that done to him a couple times: he would think he is talking to people who are used to him yelling and such only to wind up to be the people who he is nice to.

Upon being in her mind, the mad king couldn't help but see that she was the one who helped the Shadeslayer get his energy.

For after taking out anybody he came across while taking some of their energy, the Shadeslayer was just merely a few feet from the Mad King himself with enough energy to use a few spells. Just before the young man could whisper a word, Galbatorix knocked him out with a gesture and took away all the energy he needed to cast.

Galbatorix, now finding the culprit before him had to remind himself she was needed and that killing her would mean all that hassle.

So he turned to the once physician and now a dead body lying on the ground and broke every bone in his body and caused it in combusted at the spot and turned the ashes into smaller specks so that there wouldn't be much of a mess.

What a good way to let go of his anger.

Now he had to think of a plan that will keep the Shadeslayer far away and push the newly couple into producing a new rider, and of course he had to make their as unnoticeable as possible. He thought and he thought before hitting an idea.

The people of Feinster needed to be reminded they served under the Empire once and Shadeslayer could be hidden there, but how will he be hidden if there are Rebel spies everywhere?

But the idea hit him instantly.

A mask of course! The masks Galbatorix had in mind were easy to make: mold, iron, magic, and a few other things put into it as he had done it before for spies but this one was to be special.

'It would make him vanish off the face of the earth and the Varden will be like chickens without heads once they find out. And once I get Saphira, then I could easily use the Shadeslayer as leverage so that she would not harm me. It's been a while since I had a perfect idea,' Galbatorix thought as a sadistic grin graced his features.

* * *

That voice after when Galbatorix said 'I'll be damned' part is Shruikan, so no one can say that I didn't tell you guys.

Like I said, I do not really care for this chapter and I know my grammar has gone out the window as well as a few other things.


	10. Finally getting that Rose

Restrained. Freedom- I didn't mentioned it? Whoops, my bad! But here is a little hint: Eragon and Murtagh are second generation dragon riders (as far as we know) so the odds of there being a third generation are fairly great.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, because if I did, I wouldn't write about how Elves have hairless bodies (even through Paolini is trying to make them one step away from being related to human)

* * *

Chapter 9

Moving are like vacations, but they last longer

After the immense care, vigorous rubbing, prayers or songs chanted, and food being eaten, Freyja was better in health. The rain eventually went away and so did the chances for her to talk to the man behind the wall and find out his name. Every time she went out, Ginger and Kristy would forever be by her side, always persuading her to stay within the garden or a spare guard would be sent to follow her but whenever the guard was around, there would be little to no conversation.

The spring weather was rather splendid, but it seemed like another warm winter to Freyja. But it quickly changed, for in the last few days between spring and summer where just in two days she was to become eighteen years old, Galbatorix gave her a somewhat rare visit wearing lighter clothing of deep green, soothing sable, and hard purple.

"You seem healthier, so glowing in the spring's sun and summer's air. It's such a pity your husband doesn't see it," Galbatorix casually said as the two walked slowly through his section of the gardens.

"But he has missions to carry out, as you ordered, my lord," Freyja responded as she lowered her gaze and bowed.

"Oh yes, forgive me! I keep forgetting that. If there was not a Varden, he would be here".

"Yes, of course".

"But let's not say such that vile word again. Tell me, Freyja, have you ever seen the ocean?"

She frowned. She had heard of an ocean of sand before but what was he getting at?

"What sort of ocean do you have in mind? For I have already lived in an ocean of sand", Freyja said not knowing what he was getting at.

Galbatorix laughed, not caring if she was joking or not.

"I mean the type that is a large body of salt water. There is a nice city by the ocean known as Feinster that gets its wealth by trading as well as fishing. It also has a nice view with a strong roof and very friendly people".

"And all of this outside of your court, my lord?"

"Of course," Galbatorix said with a smile on his face, and as they passed through a rose bush, he plucked a white rose without spilling a drop of his own blood and gave it to Freyja, "You will learn that those who enjoy being under by ruling tend to live an acceptable life with little to no hardships".

. . . . .

"So you're leaving to Feinster?" Douglas asked as they sat in the garden. An hour after Galbatorix spoke to her.

"Yes, Lord Galbatorix believes that once we are moved it, it will get the two of us closer together".

"I wanted to say that I am sorry I didn't visit you when you were sick. They believe that creating silk and lace will counter the Varden's sell, all I mentioned was how my mother would fawn over silk if there was only enough to have. They thought it over and believed that I was suggesting about creating it, one thing led to another and here we are. They said it took the Empire a year for them to pin-point how the Varden was getting funds before they too decided to go on the lace market".

"Sounds strange... are they working you to death?"

"Not as much as they were before. I can still feel my finger tips if that's what you mean," Douglas said as he flexed his fingers and rubbed them in the palm of his other hand.

"That's good to know," Freyja said as she smiled and smelt the rose, savoring its sweet scent and then placed it onto her lap and frowned before saying,"Though Douglas, I haven't gotten a lot of answers about this, but I know you will give me a better answer".

"Okay then, shoot".

"Between you and me, I am fairly daft at what is going on, my father told me that the Empire and this Varden are at war, but I haven't put much thought into looking into other peoples thought because… Well…"

"You think it is rude?"

"Yes, I do… so can you tell me what is this all about?"

Douglass considered this, thinking it over and shrugged.

"You are beginning to sleep like a rock, getting to have a selected hearing, and you are not as observant as you were at home. You have been here for quite a while and yet you do not know?"

She frowned.

"Mm... I know, remember the stories of Dragons?"

"Dragon as in the flying worms that eat up people, especially that of Dwarves and they would steal gold and goblets, rubies, pearls, and other jewelry?"

"That would be them and remember how they would anything that shines gold in the sun?"

"That scared me!"

"You refused to leave your house for a month unless you wore a cloth over your head"

They laughed for a moment before she continued onto their conversation.

"But why Dragons? They are fairy tales to teach us not to be greedy, nothing more than a figment of storytelling".

"Dragons exist Freyja. In the first battle I went to, the one we barely made it with our heads intact, there was a blue dragon. Words cannot describe the beauty I saw and the fear I felt when it opened its maw and unleashed its hell fire. We managed to move the Varden back until the next day we caught them by surprise and was able to flee before long. An actual battle would have been greater and would have had the dragon would have stayed longer however, it wasn't. I asked about and found out that the Empire has two".

"Two Dragons? So they go about doing as they please?"

"I heard they have riders for them. Lord Galbatorix is the rider of a dragon that is black as night and the rider of the dragon that has ruby red and blood-like scales is Lord Murtagh".

* * *

Freyja: always having a blonde moment at one time or another in her life.

And look! It's Douglass!

I was not entirely amused at how Paolini made it seem that the Empire was going to _ALLOW_ the Varden to get money without a fight, so I added Silk to the trading of the Empire. Granted, people hate Galbatorix, but why let a cheap piece of silk that is almost natural and spun by magic so there isn't even a mistake in it.


	11. Road Trips are so long

Restrained. Freedom: A hole in my plot. I made Galbatorix into a romantic in a sense, but true… I could have made this a Galbatorix story but I didn't which in retrospect I know is a bit chalky. It would be like if Galbatorix would have people to disrespect him he would let them live (whither it is his children doing it or some random girl that has a lot of power). And there is the 'romantic' idea of killing the man and killing his family, which is a no-no and looked down upon, but I am thinking others such as the Urgals, Dwarves and others would want Galbatorix's and possibly Murtagh's bloodline destroyed despite Nasuada's and others . Which makes anyone wonder: why do in the first place?

As for the flying worm thing, J.R.R. Tolkien referred to his dragons as flying worms and do not get me wrong, I won't be little Thorn or Saphira, but I just think that Dragons are getting to much hype. They kind of deserve to be 'downgraded' some way or another from time to time.

Lol

Oh yes, this might be a filler chapter to some people, I have to show how they got in... but I do not like this chapter :I

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, for it I did, I put put in... A DOUBLE RAINBOW ALL THE WAY!

* * *

Chapter 10

Over the River and Through the woods to Feinster we go

Maids hurried, faster than usual, back and forth moving clothing needed and were not needed for her stay at Feinster. To Freyja's surprise, she had to leave a good portion of her bright light weight clothing behind for some not quite so heavy dresses and dark colored hand-me-downs. Who owned these before, for they looked a little older in color and in fashion, Freyja was not quick enough to stop and ask them about it. She had somewhat of a hard time believing that such a city would be entirely cool during this hot front, but then she had to remind herself that where she lived had frigid cold nights despite in the day where it was very hot.

Freyja knew that her birthday would be the second day of their travel but made no voice about it and yet again her husband was still not able to be found. She would have liked to catch a forlorn glance of him, to make sure she was married rather than having to be reminded it. But she went to bed knowing that there wouldn't be much for her to do about it.

On the day of departure, it was very warm where a slight breeze that didn't show signs of becoming a wind, yet the air was surprisingly noticeable, even though it was in the morning. She made a quick good bye to her young maids before she had known she had to leave.

Freyja and the three handpicked maids were put in a plain carriage but the inside of it was rather comfortable. The horses were like the carriage as well: plain, fairly unmemorable, but had so much hidden in it. The coach was a rough tongued, but he kept his manners to Freyja but none to the maids who greeted him with the same behavior. A man with a rough bag over his head and just a small breathing hole to make sure he didn't suffocate. His wrists tied to the back with very coarse rope, it dug into his wrists every time he dared to move them away from the carriage.

And just about on the other side of the city, an identical carriage with identical people set out at the same time but it was going a different direction.

On the first day of their departure they passed through farms and a few patches of forests. They seemed to over-look this carriage by its plain appearance, the driver wore grubby clothing and was shabby, and the horses' coats were dirty and did not shine so brightly in the sun. The village people were used to seeing how courtiers traveled for they preferred to be seen, to display such wealth: Mahogany wood instead of pine, silk screens instead of course cotton, the driver would be clean shaven with moderately respectable clothing and properly dressed, and the horses' coats shined in the sun and their hair well cut.

Most carriages by plain and rather poor appearance carried people of less importance who could afford it. Just twelve years back, while roads were already made that connected everyone, people asked for a little better transportation, something that also saved them from the weather, made them feel far better than those who traveled in carts, horses and on foot, and were willing to pay. Galbatorix obliged, cheap wood was used, one to two horses were used, and it made little more jobs for those in the Empire.

In order to spare the horses, they were set to a slow pace and for their break they took half an hour the afternoon to have a rest, stretch and lunch.

It was a cold lunch for no fire was made and they simply had dried pieces of meat, jelly that was with bread, and cool water instead of tea, as the driver insisted to save time. The tied man ate the crusts of the bread, the scraps of meats, and mouthfuls of a bucket of water before he seemed to be waiting for everyone to get ready. After eating Freyja and company went back into the carriage and began where though there were still forests, but plains of grass, farmers, and a few towns became more apparent and just in a matter of three hours, the sun sunk behind the vegetation and the sky became pale blue with streaks of red, gold, and later purple before all became black with stars and the Milky Way above them in which they again ate and slept.

The next day, which was Freyja's birthday, everything was so bright with few to little shadows but everything was still silent. They covered a lot of ground and so to this time to celebrate both occasions at the end of the day, they had a small fire, with bacon cooked, wild potatoes skinned and roasted, and bread with jam served. They drank some tea with it as well, with some honey to spare before going back to their tedious journey. Despite the distance they made, but there were still a few days ahead of them, the driver reminded them. The hooded man had a few pieces of the burnt bacon, a slice of the fresh bread, a small potato, and drunk from the bucket of water. The driver was nice enough to attentively look at the man's wrists and wrapped two pieces of old cloth around his skin so the rope wouldn't do so much damage anymore.

The maids recounted a few stories as they sipped their tea, but Freyja couldn't help but listen to the hooded man and the driver.

"I do not get paid for taking care of prisoners of any kind," The grubby man muttered, sitting beside the other. The masked one kept sipping onto the bucket and handed it back to the driver, he did the same and handed it back to the masked man, "But then seeing a man with just one hand and a rope tightly tied to both wrists makes anyone wonder what this one-handed man has done, yes?"

Though the masked man said nothing, the driver didn't seem to care or mind.

"But, once we get to Feinster, you're their problem. They'll feed you, give you better clothing, and make you a servant. Those people there think anyone who is a prisoner of Galbatorix is a friend of them. I think you will be able to have some more pressure on you that the son of Morzan will be there. I heard he is glutton for work, but he is not crazy to kill off any servants, but be weary, he isn't usually the type to pity you when you try to say you cannot work because of your missing hand. Be wary of that, my friend" The driver said as he practically smacked the masked man on the back before leaving him and caused the other man to have a coughing fit.

Once they were out of tea, they cleaned the dishes and pans with sand, collected and placed them back in the baggage, put out the fire with what was left of the unneeded water. While the driver was very nice to the mask covered man, he couldn't get out of the tying, so he slept awkwardly on his side.

And as night passed, morning was started before sunrise and they relieved themselves, washed up, and then ate breakfast in the carriage. The driver and the man chewed on pieces of the bread while he walked and said nothing about needing a drink of water.

And again, as they went due south, and for the next two days, they carried on this schedule before reaching Melian: a stone and wooden city with a town behind it and surrounded by seas of greenish gold grass surrounding it. While some considered it a city, others from Uru'baen and Gil'ead saw it as a good size town that made its wealth of being a halfway place for traders, fur sellers and trappers, and people looking for work.

The maids insisted that they wanted to sleep in a bed while the driver threatened to leave them behind so they could find work in Melian. They closed their mouths and bought the things they needed and took care of themselves of their toiletries before going back to the carriage. Soon after they left Melian and traveled Jiet River and waited until morning at a station created by the Empire's army.

It was a military on both sides of the river, thirty soldiers on the east side and forty-two soldiers on the west side. The west side station had a few buildings on each side and had few jobs there, but people managed to make a few coins there. When it came to transporting people across the river was by putting people in wooden cart that could hold five horses and a group of five men, five women, and thirty children, and that was in weight alone.

The fee for it was not so terrible, even people who didn't have enough could trade for it, and those who were far better off than the lower class simply thought the fee was mere pocket change.

After an hour's wait, they paid their fee and passed over the river, but it wasn't exactly smooth. It was very rocky distance, the carriage creaking from side to side, and the only thing that keeping them from going down the river was a rope; it was when they were just feet away, Freyja felt her head swam and her stomach lurch. All around the cart, other people groaned, prayed, o spoke to others in a low hum. The smell of the people was not as terrible as the fear of the rope connecting them were to break; causing them to lose control and possibly die.

But people knew they were close once calls of orders were heard and in a matter of ten minutes, they were pulled onto land and the front cute opened. The first to exit were the people themselves before the horses were slowly pushed out, during the troublesome process Freyja noted that one of the maids probably looked as pale as she did so she knew she didn't have to feel guilty of feeling sick. The Driver seemed to have spotted a sociable soldier and decided to have a talk with him.

"The river is choppier this time of year," the driver commented as the carriage was pushed out.

"Winter is a better season for the river is always frozen, but we do not get paid as much. The snow from the Spine pulls into the Leona Lake, causing the river to be like this, which this year seems to be more than enough but some believe it is the Varden that is causing so much choppy water," the soldier responded as the two laughed and the carriage started again.

The driver stopped halfway and moved the masked man to the bench next to him but kept the other man tied so that now, the driver was pushing the horses to a faster pace. They pushed at a surprising speed as now went through the prairie and saw the vast blue ocean sparkling under the white sunlight. When they got closer, they began the lapping of the ocean and cries of the gulls.

Freyja excitedly looked out the carriage and couldn't get her eyes off the vast turquoise sea was underneath the sky being light blue with puffs of sluggish white clouds. It took a few shakes from the maids before they pointed to the weary city before them which paled in comparison to the large body of water. Freyja blinked and eyed it's somewhat sad existence and knew that this was Feinster, her new home for the time being.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

In order to avoid any confusion, the masked man is Eragon. So now nobody can't say that I didn't put that little fact up… even if it is at the end of the story. The Hand-me-downs show what is left of Murtaghs other wives, and the treatment of Eragon... well since he is considered a 'criminal' they give him mediocre treatment.

WHAT DOES IT MEAN?


	12. You're married to that guy?

Here is a second story... because I feel really bad for not updating this and updating my other, non-inheritance stories be updated... and it is not so perfect for I edited it and posted it around... 12:52 in the morning, so yeah, it is not perfect.

We see Lorana who is at the end of Brisingr: she is the lady of Feinster... but I guess she is a Duchess, other characters that will be mentioned and seen from time to time, and we will see a quick glimpse of Thorn.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, for if I did,well... I'd add more spaghetti western inspired scenes into it.

Spaghetti Western is a term used for Italian made Westerns rather then American made

* * *

Chapter 11

Finally reaching Feinster

When they entered past the main gate and once they did, the sound of people, animals and the cobble streets were filled into their ears. Nobody paid any attention to the carriage, it was nothing special they assumed just like the farmers and townspeople beforehand. The mood in this city matched its appearance which somewhat disappointed her for she was hoping for everyone to be a little ore livelier.

The maids nibbled on the dry meat until they reached merely halfway towards the city before they heard hushed cries of anguish, annoyances and disappointment.

She frowned as she saw people crane their heads up and point at the sky, she frowned and a rush of curiosity filled her. Freyja opened the carriage door with anxious fingers and awkwardly stepped out; managing to catch herself without falling to the ground.

The maids called for the driver to stop, and when he did, he saw why and he too jumped down but with better footing due to experience.

However, Freyja wasn't looking at him: she was looking at the large crimson beast in the powder blue sky. Everyone stared at it with tightened jaws, covered mouths and held breaths; they knew the Empire had once again showed itself to them as punishment.

Freyja blinked as it moved past the rooftops, and once again people went back to what they were doing. The driver wet his lips and tried not to touch her, so he touched the lining of his vest.

"Lady Freyja," the man said in a low voice, making sure nobody was hearing him call her such, "You must get back in, they are expecting you".

Freyja took a moment to collect herself before nodding to him and went back in to the maids, who looked relieved to see her back, but they were worried for their lives and their necks as well.

Once continuing onto the cobbled road, which was thankfully cleared, it left a fifteen minute window for Freyja to ready herself.

The maids pulled all the blinds down and kept an eye on each one to make sure no one saw Freyja changing. The three of them knew Freyja wasn't presentable for she was wearing a under gown and slippers, and they knew she had to look like a proud wife.

They combed back her blond locks into a tight bun with an amber ribbon and then adding long chained pearl earrings to replace her rather plain gold with blue sapphires and a small ruby studded necklace. Another maid pulled out a burgundy dress with white lace trimmings with a respectfully low neckline that merely exposed her upper chest but not low enough to expose cleavage. They tightened the strings in the back and flattened and smoothed the dress's bottom so the bottom gown was not exposed. Freyja took her slippers off and moved her feet into pale red, low level high heels that had a lot of work put into them.

Once the finishing touched was put onto her, the maids cleaned up the inside of the carriage and when they were done, they all sat with their backs stiffly to the seats and held their breaths as they reached the castle gate.

A guardsman stopped the carriage and questioned the driver, he then walked back and pulled up the blinds and saw the maids and turned his head to the left and saw another maid and Freyja. He put down the blinds and said something, the sound of gates being opened roared into their ears, a loud 'clunk' was heard and the carriage moved forward.

It was about few feet after they had entered when the gate groaned to a close and the carriage stopped.

The door opened and a rough hand was held out; Freyja placed her fingers into this man's hand and allowed herself to be whisked out of the carriage with proper grace. Grabbing onto the midway of her dress, she took small steps down onto the ground and blinked in the light.

The man who had helped her down was tall, bony and wore armor; his pale eyes were squinted due to the many hours in the sun and the old scars of sunburn on his cheeks, due to the fact that he too had fair skin and had short cropped sandy hair. By looking at him, he seemed like he wasn't a person to fight, but would instead let his cunning wit get himself out of trouble.

He dipped his chin down to show his respect and she did the same with a quick nod; Freyja then turned her head to see a old woman wearing deep shades of purples and blacks, a veil that was adorned around a diadem that was covered with amethyst and diamonds and a younger man who was clearly related to the old woman beside her. He had dark brown hair, blue eyes, like the woman, and somewhat dark skin due to also working out in the sun, and he too wore the same fashion of purples, silvers and blacks.

"Greetings," the old woman said, in a light tongue and giving Freyja a respectful curtsy, "I am Lady Lorana, duchess of Feinster, and once the ruler of this fine port".

"I am Lord Adohlfin, Duke of Feinster, son of Lady Lorana and the current ruler of this city," the young man said as he gave quick bow.

"I am Lady Freyja De'Agustinet. I am much honored to be here and witness such a city," Freyja responded as she gave a low curtsy to Lady Lorana and Lord Adohlfin.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The coarse woven bag had been taken off of his head and he was helped down from the bench; he blinked in the sudden light and finally took a painfully deep breath.

Here he was, at the very city he and Saphira had liberated, was now under the influence of the Empire; lower servants helped him out of the ropes and gave him a cool bowl of water. One of the older servants eyed the other ones and back to the man.

"Have you rested?"

"Yes"

"Sit by the wheel and do not attract any attention to yourself, understand?"

"Yes, thank you".

The older servant motioned to the others to go inside and get some food, and once they left, the man went to the side to talk with a guardsman. Nobody knew who he was, which was ironic.

Eragon's face must have looked distorted perhaps and deformed due to the mask upon his face, and they seemed to put him off as a man who must have been caught robbing something as when they saw his missing hand.

The Shadeslayer looked around and knew he couldn't use his mind to grasp others for if he did, a terrible migraine would fall upon and last for a few days, all thanks to Galbatorix.

Eragon saw Lorana once again who had yet to be claimed by time, and beside her was her son, who now bore the heavy yoke of the being between the Varden and the Empire. The tall man beside them was Monco: though neither he nor Eragon spoke face to face, he knew Monco was a respected man and a good warrior.

And finally he saw who spoke to him on the few days they were able to speak to one another: he expected her to have black hair, but then again, perhaps he was thinking about Arya most of the time.

As Eragon studied the blonde girl, Freyja looked more like a child due to her looks were being untouched by stress as well as her height being five-three and she had large, doe-like eyes:it was rather strange to consider her an actual adult.

But what was more pressing news was that Murtagh was here, which the Shadeslayer could only assume to make sure his half brother would keep Eragon from escaping to a hideout made by the Varden if the mask didn't succeed.

Though what Murtagh said about not letting them together was probably lost in all of the fights and the anger he had through time.

_'Speak of the _lesser devil'.

Lorana and Adohlfin became deathly quiet, their eyes controlled from showing any emotion but it appeared Monco had mastered it without even trying. Murtagh entered the castle courtyard with arrogance, complete dominance, and a dark feeling about him. All but Freyja seemed on edge, which made Eragon somewhat confused by this.

Despite the strained silence, it was Adohlfin who spoke with a controlled tone, but it was somewhat clear that Murtagh's power threatened him.

"What brings you here, Lord Murtagh?"

Murtagh gazed at the other man with a look of complete weathered anger and control.

"I have come to see the safe arrival of my _wife_," which sounded forced but by him saying it alone caused an uncomfortable surprise amongst everyone.

"Your wife is here, Lord Murtagh?" Lady Lorana asked, with a less powerful voice as her eyes now looked at Freyja.

"Yes," Freyja said, her eyes were making quick, polite glances toward him and her hands crossed before her, "It is good to see you once again Murtagh".

Eragon looked at the two, Freyja's passive looks and Murtagh appeared rather disinterested in seeing her.

'_What an unhappy couple…_'

* * *

I think Freyja is rather happy to literally see Murtagh again

On other news Monco is a name I took from 'A Full of Dollars: For a Few Dollars More'... don't ask, this was during the time period where I watched the 'Dollar' Trilogy as well as Bonanza episodes (that show has no plot line)

Last part where you see the dots is Eragon's point of view. Freyja uses her Maiden name, I do not know why, but she did, for everyone says 'I am blah so-and-soson or so-and-sodaughter'. It's weird... and it is kinda dramatic irony for us to know about it while everybody else finds out Freyja is Murtagh's wife... which I am sure everybody knew of Murtagh's other wives (in every story, everyone knows that the girl is Murtagh's girlfriend/wife/whatever)

_Totally revised this_


	13. Living in color

In this one, I describe the place she is at, because I also have a habit of over-describing not only what a person wears from time to time but sometimes the places a person is at as well, because we're going to be seeing her in this place from time to time and I do not want to confuse a person when I say 'So-and-so is at this color room'. Oh yes, people will cringe. I LOATHE THIS CHAPTER ENTIRELY!

In the earlier chapters, I was interested in western things (spaghetti westerns and Bonanza) and now I am interested in the pre-revolutionary France.

I also learn I can be a subtle troll (Isn't that a stinker or what?)

ANAOMA- Thank you, you're review is very much appreciated.

Restrained. Freedom- It's okay, 11 was a filler chapter, even though it was also the chapter that had said it was her birthday. Who wouldn't want to travel in their PJs and slippers? You already sleep in them and being how she is a courtier, I guess some lower class people could probably tell the difference. Despite this, she was able to dress up just in the nick of time!

In Brisingr, Eragon (or Bergan) overhears soldiers talking about Murtagh with almost mirthless annoyance. So with the driver describing Murtagh is very crucial (to me) for when a character is described, it shows how their relationship to others and it sometimes shows how the author wants to portray the character. If I made him into a berserker and a cold hearted man, he would be like his father, which we all know how much he hates him. But I didn't want him to appear too much as a loner, for that would simply label him as the 'heal me with your kindness/rebellious hardheadedness' type. This doesn't mean I am annoyed with him, it just means I am not going to let myself turn him into someone that he isn't. But no brotherly bonding for a while, sorry! I am yet again using Dramatic Irony!

The Last Rider- It's been a while (or a few chapters)! I am glad that you see a change… because I wasn't really too excited on editing Chapter 11 (but hey, it has to be done!) I really felt bad for letting people wait, so I just updated it to make myself and you guys feel happy. Now for the answers!

The mask that Eragon wears (mentioned in 8) enables him to actually use magic, but I think I failed to mention it in 12, so I will resolve it in this chapter. Man, am I an air head! Thank you about the portrayal thing, for I wouldn't want him to grovel at her feet if she has a random outburst (like most stories have it) nor do I want him to appear too haughty from time to time (which I believe I did…). I know, I was stressing the point for Freyja was excited to seeing him but I was also showing that she is a 'hapless romantic/wife'; I told you this wasn't going to be an 'instant ramen romance' didn't I? Think of their relationship as Elizabeth's and Darcy's in Pride and Prejudice… with Dragons, magic, other magical beings, and no zombies.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, for if I did, there would be an interesting twist with flesh eating zombies

* * *

Chapter 12

So many colors for on place

In a matter of two hours when Murtagh announced that Freyja was his wife, which surprisingly no one out of Urû'baen knew, was much like social suicide... or murder. Eragon knew from his few encounters of courtiers were that anybody that hears a particular subject of interest that they will quickly pass it on. It spread like a wild fire and by the end of the week, it wouldn't be surprising for the Varden to hear about this and the rest of Alagaesia.

Two groups were formed in the small court of Feinster: those who wanted both Galbatorix's butcher and his wife out of _their _castle by any means necessary and those who saw her as innocent and she had no say in the marriage. The Duke of Feinster, Adohlfin, as well as his mother were those who were kind to her, but it did not quite sway peoples opinions here where more hard-headed on some matters than most in Alagaesia. The war in the courts of Feinster became not only a battle of wits but also, a battle of who owned the most allies that had the best resources; nobody wanted to anger a 'friend' with very valuable goods.

Despite the smaller war that had sparked in the courts of Feinster, Eragon humorlessly noted that he was serving under the the same roof as his enemy just like his father but not out of love or for revenge. And like his father, he was incognito, but in this situation had no say and no free will in this whatsoever.

The leather mask Galbatorix threw upon him covered his entire face and had a strap that would dig into his throat and stop him from using a full sentence without cringing for a breath to continue. It molded onto his face and made him appear like another man; every mirror he saw, he would see the ghastly mask cover his face that made a mocking face of anguish at him while they saw a deformed face that was covered with scars of the pox and nobody, not even Murtagh, could break the illusion that Galbatorix created. Which Eragon had to assume Galbatorix wanted to show him how unfair it was to appear ugly and without power.

Once he managed settled, he told them that his name was Bergan, the very name he used so many years ago in an inn when he was returning from his victory over the Ra'zac.

During the travel to Feinster, he dared mention his name, and felt a great burning at his throat that it took so much energy to stop himself from crying out in pain. After many hours for it to subsided but he couldn't ward off the feeling of discomfort and the fear of ever mentioning his name without punishment.

Some servants here were a little compassion for the trip he took with rags and bare feet and allowed him to rest the rest of the day and gave him supper when it was time. After feeding him they gave him water to wash himself and clean clothing that fit him well along with rough, yet comfortable shoes that felt so pleasing to wear since through his journey made his feet rather tender. And since the servants and maids also played the same game as the courtiers, only so few were eager to wait on Freyja hand and foot that Eragon was 'unfortunate' to serve under her due to the fact that since he was new. The others accepted it without question but their eyes were forever on the stump for an arm of his, thinking of how he got it and if he was trustworthy enough to be near the silver and other valuables that were small and could be easily hidden.

Other than Eragon who was apart of Freyja's serving staff, there were the maids, who traveled with her, Juliana, Franny, and Gaylene, and two maids and two servants from Feinster: Winomina and Olivia, Phil and Kurt. With so few people, all eight had to form their own circle to which if something Freyja likes or hates and made sure everyone was well informed. Despite having to memorize such small things, it seemed like a soothing breeze after hours upon days of torture and starvation.

The next day, they decided that he had rested enough and that he should pull his own weight, regardless of his missing hand.

Early that morning, with the help of Winomina and Kurt, a weird pair that had dark frizz hair, olive skin, and blue eyes, yet their figures differed greatly. Eragon and the three maids were going to be given a full length tour of Freyja's personal apartment. Before the tour was given, one of the maids Franny asked if all the wings had similar rooms to Freyja's wing, but Winomina and Kurt shook their heads.

"Courtiers that hold blood relations to the Duke and Duchess tend to live here rather than have their own house. After the siege with the Varden, the courtiers were very worried about security and moved into the castle and thus created each apartment to fit their fancy," Kurt explained, his thin fingers waved as his spoke.

"It began to overcrowd," Winomina added, as her starch white bonnet bobbed with her head, "Soon the Duchess decreed that only those who were related to her and her husband were allowed, and also demanded that their family trees were to be compared to their royal family tree to make sure nobody was trying to lie their way in. The only reason why a wing has so many apartments is because one cousin could be housing their aunts and uncles".

After that, Kurt's twig-like body led way while Winomina's petite frame trailed after him with the others trailing behind like a line of little ducks following their mother.

The hallway that went through Freyja's wing overlooked the city and the ocean with a large yawning window to allow natural light in as well as a view with a heavy, wig-like drape with the symbol of the Duke's family on it that hung above it. Above their heads and in every particular room were chandeliers that were made up of of black iron vines with medium sized candles nestled within each gap possible and it had a system of aqueduct-like pipes that lead to the very bottom to a rather large flat basin to catch the wax so servants would daily clean it up for build up. The flooring was cherry wood and was well kept from termites and treated for rotting and with much care and waxing that it appeared to reflect like water with small islands of rugs in the center of the dark reddish brown river. The outer walls seemed like a robin's changing egg as it had shades of blue as the sun passed through the sky: because her wing did not face the sunrise, the walls were a dark powdery blue from night to morning, at mid morning slipping into the afternoon they were the color of morning glories, and when it was sunset they were pure golden egg before the sun and as the sun would set and fade, it changed back to the powdered blue.

There were other apartments that had many mirrors, portraits of dark forests painted onto the walls, and other designs with equally large rooms, but she preferred the smaller apartment. Her personal apartment had six rooms in all that were all connected to a hallway that evenly portioned them out as well as where they stood: toiletry room, a guest bedroom, a large bedroom that had fairly large windows, while the rest of the bedroom, the parlor, a very small library, and a music room did not have windows in them.

Another reason why she chose this apartment rather than its comfortable size was also its multicolored rooms and its curious rugs. Each room, except for the toiletry room, had a different rug in it that matched each room's particular color: A blue rug with diamond shapes in the parlor, a thin ruby rug for the music room with black gaping circles, a woolly brown rug with squares upon it in the sitting room, a large evergreen rug with geometric patterns in the library, a rug of gold threads that entwined into a story, and a comfortable deep violet rug with designs of lotus and other flowers in the bedroom that also had a large balcony that connected itself to the other apartment in Freyja's wing that was not in use. So it was very quick that once someone said, 'So-and-so is in the Green room' you would know they person they are taking about was in the library.

However the toiletry room was considered the white room, for the walls were entirely white, the floors were tiled with a light weight tile with the wood and pillars bellow the flooring could support and it was apparent the tiles were a new addition to the room. Since the white room faced the sunset, it would turn a soft glossy orange, a smoky bluish gray, and then it would became totally black.

'_It appears that bathing is now becoming a part of the norm_,' Eragon observed, remembering his first encounter with the shower closet and not knowing what it was for.

After they were shown around, they woke up Freyja, the men were excused out of the room as the women began to help Freyja with her Toiletry and assist her in changing clothing. But it also dawned on Eragon to see Freyja to herself before he finally got it.

A nice place you would say, and several would agree with you. It was a kind gesture from the Lord of Feinster to give Freyja this wing but it was also a well thought up political-like move. Murtagh was given a different wing, and people expected the dragon rider to be angry, but he didn't seem to complain that he was not with his wife; this was a quick test by both Adohlfin and Lorana to see ties of the Husband and Wife. Any man who loved his wife entirely would have been insulted, but Murtagh simply shrugged his shoulders and went on with life.

'_Murtagh must either not care for her or must be alienating her from the courtiers. I remember he mentioned his great distaste towards how vindictive they could be or how quickly they are at tearing each other apart. Friends with high power are vital in court life and help them at any time yet at the same time turn and demand for something of possibly greater. Has he thought of this before-hand or did he do this last-minute action just to show that he has no interest in fueling Galbatorix's plans?_' Eragon thought, feeling that despite the hardships Murtagh had over went too far, feeling that she was being punished for simply being caught in Galbatorix's web.

Eragon knew there is no actual physical fight, for it would be very lowly of someone with such a high status to 'degrade' them to even think of it, but Eragon had to disagree for when they were without prying eyes, he had witnessed a man beat another or having sex with someones spouse. Everything that is in public was verbal warfare, such as for example: a woman of high status can who start up the rumor that another with equal or lower status is being very unfaithful, regardless if it is true or not. And if the woman is confronted, she can deny or accept it. The most the 'victim' could do was if they were in good regards with the duchess and duke, they could complain and hope things go their way. Women were simply to be banished outside of the court and only brought back once they were forgiven while men took up arms and dueled or were banished.

Sometimes it was not always wise to be entirely in league with servants, for it would be like creating a house out of paper.

A knock was heard at the door to Freyja's apartment, Eragon was about to open it despite being several feet away, but Phil appeared and answered it to Olivia pushing a small cart with a covered, medium sized platter with a covered pitcher of coffee (a request that Freyja asked for the night before), and it also appeared their breakfast was hidden underneath cloth that skillfully covered the bottom half of the cart. But even from afar, he could smell the bitterness of the coffee, the buttery aroma of the rolls (or croissants as people in Feinster called them), the greasiness of sausage, marmalade, and eggs which all were a part of Freyja's breakfast. From below the upper tray and hidden away Eragon smelt from the basket day-old bread, crispy cold bacon, fried potatoes (probably sliced), Tea, and hints fruit.

"Where is lady Freyja?" Olivia's husky voice sung through the doors, "and where shall she eat her breakfast?"

"She will probably want to eat in the balcony area, for there is already a tea table and chairs. But when it is storming, windy, if it is raining, it would be best that she would eat in the parlor," Phil replied as Olivia pushed the cart through the hallway and as she waited at the door, she moved the cloth away and handed a basket of food to Kurt.

"Here is today's breakfast. They were being a little generous with the Jelly today but refused to allow us the pleasure of having Marmalade".

"Marmalade is more of a rich man's jelly compared to what they consider butter".

Olivia gave a hoarse chuckle before taking out a rather simple tray covered with a cheap tea that had honey in it with chipped china that were probably bound to be thrown out and gave it to Eragon, who quickly held both his arms underneath it and held it like a child. Once she was sure that Eragon had it, she knocked on the door and quickly opened it as then closed it behind her.

Kurt led the way to the parlor (or the blue room) with Philip holding the door to it; Kurt then placed the food onto the small table but left room and Phil took the platter away and put the tray beside the food. Phil turned to Eragon with a surprising motion and gave him a mild look that held him in place with the warm brown eyes; Eragon had been used to this, but Phil seemed to be the few to have others beat.

"At breakfast time, we eat here unless there is some bad weather we would eat in the hallway if she is not around. Do not leave any noticeable crumbs here, for it might attract mice, ants, and cockroaches, if you do not pick after yourself, you will be the first to wait of Lady Freyja and the last to eat and. Understand?"

"I do".

"Then eat quickly Bergan," Phil said as Eragon spotted Kurt making a make-shift sandwich by piling his bacon, his potatoes, and what appeared to be plum in between his carefully sliced bread and was eating it to where his chin was above his plate. Phil was already at it, and Eragon could hear Gaynel moving the chair away from the table to Freyja could sit better in it. Thinking like them, he too began making that sandwich while finishing the tea afterward.

* * *

So, when I was describing Freyja's apartment and such, I thought 'think somewhat like a fairy-tale-like innocence'. The color rooms will probably be described, but not now. It's hard to transfer what I can picture in my mind and write it down so people can read it and get it. I can feel a difference between how I made Galbatorix's castle and Feinster: Galbatorix's castle in Urû'baen reminds me of an English Castle while Feinster is simple French. Screw deep purples and blues, bring on the lighter shades of the colors...!~


	14. Would this look flattering on me?

Oh… mah… GAWD! D:

I spent a few months doing nothing! I guess that is what Hiatus is.

All information is near to completely biased

Valentines Day, despite how romantic, fat, cavity, or diabetic inducing it may be, I am sure we all know most of 'em: Catholics have at least three saints possessing the name, all of which were martyred. A particular story or legend is that back then when a particular emperor of Rome outlawed marriage to young men, for it dampened their ties and without having anything to lose, they tend to prove a little better in battle. But the priest found this utterly unlawful, so he secretly married the boys off to their loves in secret. The Emperor found out and beheaded him.

Another story is that supposedly St. Valentine was helping Christians out of Roman prisons but he was caught; but while he was imprisoned, he supposedly fell in love with the jailer's daughter. Just before his death, he wrote a letter to her and at the end he signed, 'from your Valentine'. Another story connected to the secret marriages said that the jailer's daughter was blind and on the day of his execution, he was given a choice to renounce his faith, but like every Martyr, he refused and was beheaded.

It is said in the encyclopedia of saints (Unlike some of the Christian sects, Catholics believe in people becoming saints, but you have to do at least a few legit miracles) that all three of the men were martyred on February 14.

So any-who, anyway

Restrained. Freedom- Thank you, because I thought I overdid it with the damn rooms. I like adding a little politics into my story, because I do not want to make this out of love.

Dappled. Tail- I am glad you like it, sorry we started off on the wrong side of the foot; well, she somewhat sees eye to eye with him, but then that is going to take a while for that to happen

I do not own the Inheritance cycle, for if I did, there would be a twist on every three pages

* * *

Chapter 13

Would this look flattering on me?

After breakfast a young impish boy arrived with nothing more than a toothy grin and a pair of bright eyes.

"You are being summoned, Lady Freyja," the boy said as he gave a quick bow to her.

"And who summons me?" she asked as Gaynel moved the tray away from her.

"Michael Ronicson," The boy sad before making a small, unsavory face before correcting himself," Um… correction, _Lord_ Michael Ronicson, senior member of the Artists of Alagaesia is summoning you to the upper gardens of the castle".

"Very well then, tell him I shall be there in ten minutes".

He gave a quick bow and left as quickly as he came; probably not wanting to get a scuffing.

Freyja turned to Winomina who gave a small testing smile and took a step closer to the young blonde.

"Michael Ronicson is a painter that Galbatorix sometimes use, but not his personal one," The older woman said through years of experience, "His paintings are… very good, for he uses oil paints, and can easily catch life in the canvas but he has a terrible ego that takes away from his art".

"He sounds good, but would this be presentable?" Freyja asked as she motioned to her olive green dress that had upper bound sleeves lined with gold designs with a crisp white under gown that had a black ribbon underneath her bosom.

"Do you feel that you are presentable?"

"To tell you the truth I have never had met a painter before and why would I be needed?"

"Most courtiers find it rather flattering to have their portraits done, my lady. Have you ever had a portrait of yourself?"

"Only on scratches of paper," Freyja said as she did a simple shrug, now looking rather doubtful.

"Then do you want to change?"

"Yes please," The blonde replied as she couldn't help but blush a bit, as she was being pushed into her room.

Olivia came, hearing this, quickly picked a dress while both Winomina and Franny helped her out and in the dress she was in with surprising speed. The visible inner dress was an autumn yellow and her outer, bounded lower sleeves dress was a royal blue with a silver lining. Through she had a deep blue ribbon tied beneath her bosom, they tied the back of her dress with a single knot. Instead f the usual shoes, they fit her into sandals, which was beginning to be popular footwear for both women and servants alike, and since Freyja spent nearly every summer in sandals, this was a normal occurrence.

"That is better," Franny said with some pride.

"You women seem to want to show off how pale she is… it's a good thing she isn't wearing black, for she would have looked sickly," Phil said as Freyja gave a weak, yet amused laugh.

"Paleness is getting back into fashion," Juliana reminded him as she stuck out her tongue.

. . . . . .

"Bergan," Kurt called as he gave him a tested look, "You have yet to familiarize yourself with the castle. The maids will know their way about after they are done cleaning. You will walk with Olivia as you two chaperon Lady Freyja to where she is needed".

"Yes sir," Eragon said as he gave a quick bow of his head.

Once Freyja was ready, Olivia followed after her like a shadow while Eragon was already by the door and held it for them and quietly closed it from behind them as he followed them out of her ward.

They reached the intersection; just above them was a window mirrored the Morning Rose, but its simple panes of dyed glass rather than panes of sapphires. There was chain pulley was near the front entrance, and when you were to see where it lead, it went to a metal shielding above the window; the metal shielding was very similar to the house he resided Ellesmere. Again, it appeared that the elves have had some influence in some structures, but not a lot.

It gave off so much light that no candles were needed in the day but stands of candles stood dutifully by the bare stone wall that mirrored the same design as the chandelier but the pan was located at the top where the candles were to make sure the wax wouldn't fall onto the polished wood floors. On the walls that did not have candles by them had banners bearing the crest of Feinster in silver and the backdrop in deep purple with blue violet trimmings

"To the left, Lady Freyja," Olivia softly instructed as Freyja looked to the right and to the front of her.

"Where do the other corridors lead to?"

"The corridor leading before you leads to the grand hallway".

"And the other to the right?"

"That leads to Lady Elisabeth quarters".

"Lady Elisabeth?"

"She is Lord Adohlfin and Lady Catherine's daughter; though she just a baby and in some standards too young to be away from her parents, the two believe that she should grow up in her quarters".

"Do they visit her?"

"Oh yes, they do when either one is available. But Lady Elisabeth sees more of her father than her mother for Lady Catherine is due for one more month and the unborn child is taking up her energy, so she resides mostly in her own quarters for everyone's sake".

"Is Lord Adohlfin with her right now?"

Winomina paused and looked to the side, before turning back to Freyja.

"During this time she off on her daily walks and ventures, but shall I tell Lady Catherine's personal maid that you are interested in meeting Lady Elisabeth".

"Oh thank you," Freyja said as she looked over to the left and walked towards the left as Olivia stopped Eragon for a moment.

"Bergan, I want you to know," Olivia said in a low voice, "that you must not mention this to Lady Freyja... But it appears there are some motions of moving her closer to her husband. Lady Catherine's parents are pressuring Lord Adohlfin to do that because they worry for their grandchildren and their safety".

"What for?" Eragon croaked, feeling the band tighten around the words he had said, "It is doubtful Lady Freyja would put Lady Elisabeth in danger".

"It's not her. They seem to believe that Lady Elisabeth is in danger of the Spawn of Morzan".

Though Eragon had lost some respect for Murtagh, he doubted his half-brother would harm the child. Years back before Murtagh was a rider, he harbored a great hate for his father due to the fact that Morzan was abusive and put the his son through so much trauma. While Murtagh's behavior was now apathetic, Eragon doubt he would do the same to the baby as Morzan had done to him.

"Are you sure?"

"That's what I am hearing through the grapevine, though Lady Catherine and Lord Adohlfin haven't made any announcements about moving Lady Freyja lately".

"Is Lady Lorana saying anything about this?"

"She is not siding with the motion, nor is she against it. She is making it clear that if the Spawn of Morzan is truly like his father, then plans will be made".

* * *

This one was okay...

It looks like not everybody likes Murtagh


	15. Meeting the Duchess of Pugs

(Continue)

While the Christians and Catholics added their own spin off the holiday, February was also the month of cleansing to the Romans known as Lupercalia, a fertility festival for planting and for women (but it is not so important for emperors took days off the month in order to lengthen their own particular months, or so I heard)

Despite such grim circumstances, in the Medieval England and France, they believed that in the middle of the month is when Birds chose mates and later on evolved into handcrafted cards. One of the earliest made Valentines Card was back at least in the 1400s where Charles, the Duke of Orleans and a prisoner of the Tower of London sent his wife a card during his imprisonment and long after, the first American Valentines greeting card was made by a woman by the name of Esther A. Howlanda Mount Holyoke.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, for I would have made it more suspenseful

Granted, this isn't perfect, but I tried :I

* * *

Chapter 14

Meeting the Duchess of Pugs

Olivia quickly hurried after Freyja, with Eragon trailing after, but luckily Freyja didn't seem to mind for the view of the city was worth looking at, which was somewhat of a hassle but Olivia and Eragon didn't want to be too pushy.

With the older woman's help, it seemed it took a matter of minutes for them to pass through the hallways and corridors before reaching the upper garden: a weeping willow that dominated the upper half with several patches of daisies, gypsy's lace, lavenders, orchids, and violets. A small, bleach white table set was beside the willow tree that was hard to overlook and a long slab of stone that was mean to be a bench was near the entrance. The grayish blue sky seemed only brightened by the flowers wavering their perfume in the summer breeze.

In the center was a middle aged man with a small nose wearing outdated robes of muddy burgundy, tarnished ruby, and watery blue. His salt and peppery hair that was rather greasy but it was clear of any knots and looked as if there was a large bush growing on his chin. His unruly appearance simply added on: he had rather rough features with rather dark eyes that seemed to strike out from his pale skin.

"Lady Freyja?"

"I am-"

"You have finally come. You're over two minutes late, you should be a little considerate, for it is only Lord Galbatorix that forced me to do this".

"I'm sorry about that-"

"Sit on the bench".

Freyja frowned, somewhat because of his forwardness but she did as he said by sitting rather uncomfortably with her back straight and her hands wringing as the artist motioned for a younger boy to bring him a chair.

The teenage boy seemed to have a mere layer of baby fat that by his age of his profession was very rare; for by now apprentices would have become scrawny from the weeks of poor treatment or of meager meals. His wavy brown hair bounced as he hurriedly did as his master did and made sure he was at an arm's length from him; Eragon could tell that the boy was probably wealthy merchant's son and has not left his family's wealth.

Lord Michael gave another grim look and pointed his makeshift pencil at her.

"Relax, I do not want to draw a statue, understand? Look to the side, or-"

Despite his decisive directions, he was drowned out by squealing coming into the garden.

A glowing, pale skin toddler, probably two and a half years old, entered with a cap that couldn't hide the locks of honey blonde hair. She wore a small, short-sleeved gown with a high V shaped collar made with a glossy purple cotton-like material lined with silver lining at the cuffs of her sleeves and a band over her chest. A big smile was across her face in between her dimpled cheeks, displaying a surprising row of healthy baby teeth with a small finger in her mouth that had a pool of slobber trail down her arm to her elbow.

Trailing after her was a nursemaid and two rather small, dogs with black smashed in faces, sandy short gray hair, and somewhat large bug-like eyes and their pink tongue lolling out.

"I am terribly sorry for disturbing you, Lord Michael," The rather old nursemaid said as she gave a quick bow, knowing full well that this man was not a lord but knew arguing with him was not a smart idea, but she then turned to the little girl, "Lady Elisabeth, your grandparents would prefer you-"

"No!" The little girl said with a bubbly voice as she misbehaved even more by going into the garden.

Her large, brown eyes loomed across the flowers and seemed to zero in on Freyja's gold, bound hair and hurried towards the older girl.

Lady Elisabeth collided with Freyja's legs and grabbed the older girl's dress into her small somewhat soggy fists; she made a hopping motion and made a small gurgling sound with a chirping giggle with her little dogs beside her legs, Freyja awkwardly smile and slightly touched the little girl's fists.

Eragon noticed both the Artist and his apprentice were now sketching away while giving short and quick looks towards Freyja and Elisabeth and back towards their sketchbooks.

"Up!" Lady Elisabeth ordered as she hopped again, "Up, I want up!"

Freyja lightly put her fingers beneath the little girl's armpits and put her onto the bench; Lady Elisabeth looked down onto her dogs and pointed down at them.

"Up! I want them up!"

The older girl gingerly picked up the squirming dogs that yapped and struggled until they were both on the bench and began padding around. Now that her dogs were up on the bench, Lady Elisabeth went straight her Freyja's locks by tugging and touching the older girl's hair while she balanced herself on the young woman's legs. Eagerly, Lady Elisabeth happily undid the braid and was now teething on it, which despite having her hair being wet; Freyja couldn't help but quietly giggle with a small genuine smile across her face.

The nursemaid stood beside Eragon and Olivia and gave a small a sigh as she simply crossed her arms and shook her head.

"I take it Lady Elisabeth is a handful, already? I would have liked to see how Lord Adohlfin was when he was young," Olivia whispered as she gave a small smile and a pat on the woman's shoulder.

"It was less complicated back then. Now there is too many politics going on surrounding who Lady Elisabeth is to play with now since the Spawn and his wife came," The Nursemaid muttered, seeming to enjoy Freyja getting the attention, "The Lords and Ladies who oppose them are pulling back their children and are beginning to move out which means less friends for Lady Elisabeth".

"And those are just the families, right?"

"I do not know about the Bachelors and Bachelorettes or the couples with no children. They are giving off mixed messages".

"The single men and women are usually the most vindictive and cunning, for they tend to have nothing to lose".

The nursemaid halfheartedly shrugged.

"Who knows these days?"

The Artist and his student were finally done, but Lady Elisabeth changed her mind from the older girl's gold hair and wobbled down from Freyja's lap and to the old man and his plump student. Running like the wind, she grabbed onto the man's robe and pulled at it, her face solemn and not willing to take 'no' for an answer. Indeed, she had inherited the Adohlfin's cool expression but it appeared that she might have taken her mother's ambition.

"I want to see!"

"Oh look, the little lady is demanding. I do not want a wet hand to touch my art," The artist mildly said as he seemed to give little care.

But it seemed to cause her to pull harder.

"I want to see it!"

The Artist turned to the nanny and gave a quick look which the older woman gave a haughty response by heaving a sigh and ghosted over to Lady Elisabeth.

"Take this child away from me, for I have far more important things to do than handle a baby".

"Come Milady, we must take our leave, bid Lady Freyja farewell," the elderly woman said, causing Elisabeth to quickly changer her attention back to the older girl. The infant looked at the dress and back towards Freyja's face and scrambled over to blonde and pointed to one of the pugs, the one which now appeared to have a yellow ribbon around its neck.

"It's yours".

"What?" everyone, minus the respectable artist, his apprentice, and Eragon said with disbelief.

"Lady Elisabeth! That came from the litter of your mother's cousin! He gave them to you," The Nanny hastily said somewhat squirming about.

"It's hers now!" Elisabeth declared as she gave a stiff motion for Freyja to pick him up, which the older girl meekly did, causing the pug to give a few series of yelps before relaxing and licking her face, "Now we leave!"

The old crone bowed to Freyja and nodded towards the others, Elisabeth did no acknowledgment and speedily rushed out with the old nanny and the other pug following after her.

. . . . . . . . . .

"Oh…"

"'Oh' is right, My Lady, for your dress is ruined!" Olivia huffed as she came beside Freyja and grabbed onto it and spread it out before her, showing the small dirt footprints all over her royal blue and autumn yellow that despite it could be barely seen.

"Are you sure?" Bergan asked, a bit skeptical but cautious not to step onto the seasoned maid's toes, "can't we just wipe off the dirt?"

Olivia gave him a mild look and did as he asked, and shrugged.

"It helps, good thing that it was already dry and this will take a few minutes," the maid said as she quickly yet gently bushed off the dirt,"But there will be stains left".

Freyja smiled as the dog looked at her with its' bulging eyes, wondering what she was going to do with him. Curious, she entered the dogs mind, marveling at how _pure_ it was if not simple: cats, to her, were the thinkers, the type that thought of its own gain while dogs were very loyal to a fault. Freyja explored around, making sure she was not a bother and found that it liked having his belly rubbed, like any dog yet it hated having its front paws and tail touched, plausibly because Lady Elisabeth enjoyed touching his paws and pig-like tail.

"Funny puppy…"

"Milady?"

"The dog… he looks like a character, I think I will call him Puck".

"Mm, funny name for a funny looking dog, at least you didn't give him a human name".

Freyja somewhat frowned at Olivia's statement.

"Why is that?"

"People will think you are lonely".

Freyja gave a small grin but felt a little bitter after hearing those words.

Once Olivia was done, Freyja, Puck who laid snug in her arms, and her servants walked into the hallway which they came from and walked through the now brighter halls spying a small group of courtiers: a few acknowledged her with a puffed of greeting or two while others simply gave a lazy glance and went back to talking. Whenever they did look at her, she couldn't help but feel uncomfortable and somewhat quickened her pace, having her stomach turn whenever they laughed. Freyja could feel that her face would get mildly warm from this and cool down only to have it heat up again and feel that she was walking on pins and needles when passing another group of courtiers.

"Lady Freyja, are you alright?" asked Bergan, and instantly she felt humiliated by how she had failed to hide her insecurity.

"I am fine…"

"Hm… Oh, Lady Freyja, have you ever been to the beach?" Olivia asked kindly, motioning to the wall but Freyja knew what she was actually motioning to.

"I haven't, but I have seen it from a distance".

"Then why don't you go down? Granted, commoners will be there, but I do know of a clearing that courtiers go to in order to get away from them," Olivia said, clearly holding back but Freyja was not in the mood to learn about the places history.

"It sounds good, but shouldn't I announce that I am leaving?"

"It would be best to do it in silence, for already courtiers seem to be waiting for a chance to do something to you," Bergan pointed out, "and you will not being going by yourself".

Freyja gave a smile and scratched Puck in the back of his ears; the little dog lifted his head, his tongue lolling out and his eyes glazing over.

"Very well then".


	16. By the Sea Shore

Thanks again

Restrained . Freedom- Valentine's day is rather adorable and I had to stop being lazy and post. I am especially glad that you like Elisabeth, for Toddlers can be a ball of energy, they are so cute. I do not think there are a lot of three year olds running around in some of the Inheritance Cycle, and for good reason too. Also… I am so damn sorry for being late. Eragon is not special this chapter

"_" – Even though you do not have a name, thank you for reading this story; and don't worry, Murtagh will appear

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle... At all... Oh my gawd! Lady Gaga's new album is coming up! (Yup, I know, very random)

. . . . . .

Chapter 15

Sea Shells

Gulls gave a chorus of cries as the ocean pushed onto the land, grabbing what it could before slinking back.

Despite the blue sky, the white sun, and not a cloud in sight, it did not really improve his attitude.

During his few days in Feinster, Murtagh would walk about the castle like a caged wild animal; stalking the corridors in a cold manner while the smart courtiers left him alone and the stupid ones made game by seeing which one could touch him or get him to talk. This always annoyed him, so he resorted to the one thing he had over them: magic.

He wouldn't go all out and kill them (even if he wanted to), so instead he would do a simple mental attack that would cause a courtier with a strong mind to feel as if they were literally walking of pins and needles.

Other times when he isn't sulking about the castle, he would train.

Murtagh was always over shadowed by the man known as Monco, who always looked down upon Murtagh with nothing more than how a hunter calculating a beast.

The man would get on his nerves as much as the courtiers, but Murtagh had to admit that the squinting warrior seemed to catch on whenever the rider was cross. But that didn't get the two to like or hate one another; rather, it was more like a mutual relationship where the both simply did not talk with one another until one (usually Murtagh) got fed up with the other.

Murtagh looked into the horizon and saw a glint of crimson over the blue blanket of water and a small smile spread across his face.

To see Thorn so free to fly about without hearing people screaming bloody murder or being fired upon by the annoying archers and arrogant elves seemed almost like a dream.

'_The female dragon is still searching for her rider. I wonder where she will go and how long she will do it before getting tired._'

_I doubt she'll give up and with the rumors of her rider being in one area and then in another, she will keep looking until all the locations are turned over. I sometimes wonder where her rider might be as well._

Thorn descended from the air and allowed the tip of his wing to ripple across the water before diving into the water and devouring a dolphin.

'_Galbatorix keeps hinting he could be in Gil'ead and then turns around and says he is still in Urû'baen_'.

Thorn dove to the bottom and kneaded the wet sand beneath his talons, enjoying the feeling before going back up and allowing his massive head to rise up from the salty water. Murtagh picked up a pebble the side of his index finger and threw it across the water, watching the smooth awkwardly shaped disk skip across the water.

_It looks like he still doesn't trust you even though you served your own brother to him on a silver platter._

'_I guess I should have made it gold_,' Murtagh thought as Thorn's gruff laughter filled his thoughts, causing him to give a smile of his own.

But it did seem too good to be true for this moment was ruined when a small, fat rat (or what the_ courtiers_ call _dogs_) bound towards him. Its bulging eyes stared at him while its small tongue waved out from hit's mouth, the ears flopped limply and its corkscrew-like tail bounced from side to side.

Sniffing at his boots while its curled tail wagged limped faster and it's snorting breath almost disgusted him. It looked up at him and cocked its head to the side as if it was expecting him to scratch its ear or give it a treat.

_Looks like you got a rat problem again._

'_This one I can handle, but the other rats in the castle are another thing entirely_'.

"Puck!"

Murtagh froze, the voice was familiar but it seemed like years ago; the rat turned it's at the name, clearly debating on whether to come towards its owner or keep looking at the man before him.

"Puck," came the voice again causing Murtagh looked over and see his _wife_ coming into view, walking coolly towards them.

Her eyes simply fell upon him from where she was walking and then looked down at the rat and smiled at it.

"Puck"

The dog ran over to her as fast as its stubby legs can carry it until it got to her and allowed her to pick it up and brush the sand from its paws. She then began walking towards him until she was just a few foot away; smiling politely at him as she lightly scratched the rat's ear.

'_Oh great…_'

_Are you going to zap her too?_

Granted, he considered doing that, but he remembered how announced that she was his wife, showing little care to her, and basically ignoring her, it seemed rather childlike that she chose to come to him as if she was hoping that he would reconsider.

Murtagh frowned, and looked to where Thorn was, but found the simple yawning sea beside them. He then looked up and felt the red dragon hovering above the clouds and looking bellow and probably scarring and eating a bird or two.

'_Of course not_'

"Lord Murtagh?"

Her voice again caused him to look down to see her holding her rat and an empty shell.

"Murtagh," He sternly corrected her, being hit by déjà vu.

"Murtagh…," She said as she held up the spiral shell towards him, "Can you please hold this?"

He wanted to say 'Put the rat down' but it didn't seem so nice to say that to her and she had a particular grin he hadn't seen before.

She bent down and this time produced a sand dollar, brushing it slightly and turning it over to see it on its other side.

"What's this? Is this some kind of shell? Is it alive?" Freyja asked as she did not hide her curiosity.

Learning about living things was not Murtagh's strong points, but what she was holding up was very practical: a sand dollar. He remembered his mother bringing one to him during the rare meetings they had together; but in retrospect, he now saw that all those gifts his mother gave him were simply to not make her feel guilty.

"It's a sand dollar," He said as if he was being forced to say it, "It was alive but what you're holding is its skeleton".

"Huh…? Its' skeleton? Strange… then what about that shell you're holding? Is that a skeleton as well?"

That was the end of his in-depth knowledge of animals.

"It's more of a skeleton on the outside. When the animal grows too big, it finds a bigger shell and moves into it".

While his answer seemed half-baked, Freyja didn't seem to think so, for she seemed to be excitedly exchanging glances at the shell and the sand dollar.

'_Does she seriously believe me?_'

_ Why should that surprise you?_

Murtagh inwardly frowned as Freyja politely took her shell back and examined it closely while her rat smelt and licked at the sand dollar. She then looked to the sea, as if to find something that she knew was in there yet could find a thing.

"Oh, Murtagh…?"

"What?"

She looked back at him, searching his face as if to relate to but didn't seem to find anything. It seemed like she was trying hard to find something to find in him.

"It's nothing," she said as she sheepishly looked away and did a quick curtsy and another silent apology before walking away from him.

Murtagh watched her go but felt eyes upon him; he looked over and saw one of the servants looking, the one with his right hand missing. Instantly he felt as if this was Eragon looking upon him, free of chains and almost mocking him.

'_Eragon is here…!_'

Thorn, however, didn't seem to see this.

_Huh? What are you talking about?_

'_That servant is Eragon!_'

_Murtagh, there are several people without their arms. And you said it yourself: Galbatorix wouldn't dare to even keep you two together. Why would he do a foolish thing like that?_

...

Not my best, but not my worst. Terribly sorry for that. I do not want this story to die, for I could easily imagine the ending where I enjoy torturing my characters. Hopefully I'll be able to post chapter 17_  
_


	17. Cause not everyone is good at talking

Watching the Libertine: a great movie that stars Johnny Depp who plays John Wilmot, a known playwright who was also a known horn dog; I wouldn't suggest that you watch it with kids… or your parents for that matter, even though Depp is in it.

But yours truly plays in it: John Malkovich plays Charles II (Oooohhh yeah)

Mmkay, I have to say that I am terribly sorry for the long wait, for I needed a kick start in order for me to start this.

Okay then! Let us start!

The Last Dragon Rider- Sorry for scarin' you, and don't worry, there will hopefully be more for the road(not at a steady pace, I believe). Now for Freyja's character: yes she is a bit simple, but then again, we're seeing her through Murtagh's point of view, limiting how much we know her feelings, for anyone can appear unafraid yet actually be afraid. I believe my style has changed and Murtagh's wry, sarcastic personality is easier for me to write while Freyja's own personality is hard for me to pin-point lately… huh… Oh yes, good luck in Mexico; no I am not a stalker, don't worry

Restrained. Freedom- Is that sad or what? But who knew sea shells could do that! Though I can't blame Thorn, for Eragon looks (and probably his smell) different thanks to Galbatorix's mask, which is the reason why Thorn disregarded Murtagh's findings. And I am planning for a decent tragedy, of course. But not like King Oedipus, Medae, or Antigone, tee-hee. I can, however, tell you I am going to do something I am not proud of

Oh yeah, now we'll see some Eragon, 'cause we need to see his (as well as the servants) views on things.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle at all… Oh yeah, supposedly the FOURTH BOOK is coming out on November 4, 2011… IT'S ACTUALLY COMING! F-I-N-A-L-L-Y!

* * *

Chapter 16

The joys of Communication

He had forgotten what a happy, well-fed child looked like.

The Varden had children around, but they were very few, solemn, under fed and under nourished, and hidden away in the tents. And memories of his village were fogged from years of war, hardships, and mostly unhappiness.

They found Lady Freyja with Murtagh but she was leaving; she seemed to look rather disappointed when she was coming to them, and Eragon could almost see a look upon Murtagh's sour face was almost of recognition but it slipped away as quick as the breeze that was picking up. When they returned to the castle, there was already a storm quickly coming.

Lady Freyja didn't seem to listen to whatever Olivia was talking about when they were returning into the castle and to her quarters; she simply stared forward with a confused look on her face that changed from pure happiness then to great disappointment and frustration, like she was going to cry at that moment but changed her mind at the split second. When they were in the castle, Lady Freyja requested several breaks, which worried the older woman who flustered the girl with questions such as 'are you okay?', 'are you sick?', and even 'did he hurt you?' which Freyja replied with a simple 'no' to each one.

When they arrived to her apartment, all the other servants, minus Phil, stood by the doorway and soon patiently waited like faithful dogs until Freyja was in veiw.

"Oh Lady Freyja," Gaynel said she hurried over to her mistress, "Why are you carrying that dog?"

"He was a present from Lady Elisabeth," Lady Freyja said in the lightest of tones as she put the dog down onto the sitting quarters and smiled as the pug walked and smelt around; she seemed almost relieved at the fact that the maid didn't bring up her feelings.

However, Gaynel did seem to notice Freyja's expression and was probably going to ask her about it, but Olivia shook her head while their Lady's back was turned to them.

"Then I guess we should take extra care of him then," Winomina added before Gaynel could respond.

"Lady Freyja, supper is waiting for you, and we do not want it to be cold," Kurt said as Lady Freyja smiled and nodded as Juliana and Franny ushered her to the dining room.

The olive skinned man turned to Eragon and gave a sharp nod.

"We need help with locking the shutters, for it is said that the storm will be rather serious," Thee man said as he moved Eragon out of her living ward and to the apartment of mirrors.

"Forgive me for saying this but it is going to be slightly hard for me to help out with it," Eragon said with a small well humored grin.

The man blinked, almost remembering about it but a wry smile had also spread upon his face.

"Forgive me for that, Bergan; I tend to forget about things like a hand missing, but oddly enough not an eye. I must admit, you do a good job at not letting a missing limb hold you down. Then if you cannot close them, will you lock the shutters when I close them?"

Eragon nodded and watched as Kurt closed the first shutters and waited as Eragon awkwardly lock twist the knob.

"Why are the shutters on the inside of the windows instead of outside? I would expect it to cost money".

"Well, that is the beauty of having a glass maker in the castle," Kurt heaved as he closed the shutters, "that and the person who designed this ward didn't like shutters on the outside that well".

Eragon nodded as they closed the rest of the shutters in the mirror apartment and then closed the rest of the apartment shutters.

"Lady Freyja seems troubled; did something upset her while she was out on her walk?"

Eragon looked at the man, knowing full well that Kurt wasn't like the younger maids who gossiped and were emotional or apathetic like Phil; so Eragon nodded, deciding to trust him.

"She met with her husband".

"Did she, huh? You'd expect her to be a little afraid or something like that. Did they talk long?"

"Not really".

"That could explain the faces she's making. Funny how aristocrats are, marrying for power and such; I guess they forgot how to pick someone who they can actually talk with".

After they were done, they arrived when Gaynel was pushing the dinner cart out of Lady Freyja's apartment.

"There's chowder waiting up for you two along with some slices of sourdough," she said with a big grin as she and the cart went down the dimly lit hall.

"So did you hear?" Franny asked the group as she and Winomina exited the room, leaving Juliana in the room to look over Lady Freyja until one or so.

Eragon and Kurt were eagerly wolfing the chowder and sour dough as the others circled around them.

"The grapevine comes to everyone I see," Phil said sarcastically with a smile, "So what sort of brand did you get today?"

"Well," Franny said without losing a beat, "It is said that Galbatorix _almost_ got that female dragon-"

"You'd think that it'd just give up," Winomina said, cutting in with a somewhat annoyed expression on her face, "Then at least we'd stop the damned large scale war and all that".

"Oh that reminds me," Olivia brightly asked, "Are your sons doing alright?"

"Thankfully they are all right. They said that they and their friends liked the care package I sent them," the older woman said, a bittersweet smile spread across her face, "Then they even said that the Varden are pulling back from the north, because of supplies are running low".

"And I heard about is… Well about Lady Freyja," Franny said, keeping her voice very low.

"You better watch what you say," Kurt said in a mild tone, "I know courtiers can be vile beasts but at least there are some kind people amongst them. And Lady Freyja could even order you to lose your job if she is not in the mood to be nice".

"No, no, no," Franny said anxiously waving her hand, "This involves her but isn't about her: supposedly lady Catherine's cousin excused himself from the castle because of the dog Lady Freyja received from Lady Elisabeth".

"So her cousin was against it…?" Eragon asked as he swallowed his food.

"Yes, Bergan, he was," Phil said as he scratched his chin, "I noticed a lot of people from Catherine's side of the family are not in favor of Morzan's spawn".

"Why is that?" Eragon asked as Olivia shook her head and clicked her tongue.

"That is probably due to the fact that Morzan dishonored them by him forcing himself upon the poor late Lady Megan who was Lady Catherine's great Aunt who committed suicide soon after and when her family retaliated…" Winomina paused as she gently chewed her lower lip.

"He killed nearly all of the men and the grandmother who was leader," Phil said with little to no emotion.

. . . . . .

Freyja seemed unsettled by the storm throughout the night, while others seemed to sleep perfectly through it, such as Puck.

Granted, she was used to dust storms and such, but she could have sworn she heard a window or two break during the night.

Back where she lived, they didn't really put in glass, but heavy cloth and when it was especially cold or windy, they would use the shutters as well as the cloth, and when they did, it didn't sound as if they were about to be torn off along with the window.

But she was troubled with her more was conversation with Murtagh: it was childish, when she spoke to him and it felt like her throat was closing in on her, and she couldn't help but feel as if her heart was barely beating at all. The only few things that kept her from dropping were the shells and holding onto Puck. She didn't act like a nervous child like how she usually acted, but he seemed so indifferent, she felt almost… put off by the back that he didn't notice how 'mature' she was.

Freyja grabbed her pillow and buried her face into it, grasping the soft cushion tightly and biting down on her lip until she forced herself to stop.

Puck would occasionally wake up and lick her face until she scratched his ear, then he would go back to sleep, but didn't help at all in improving her mood. Until finally she just cried into the pillow, feeling her frustration seep through with her tears and fall onto the pillow, giving a shuddering sigh and holding the pillow to herself.

She turned her head and her eyes fell upon where the ruby was and touched it, almost surprised to how hot it was. But Freyja simply dismissed it as she pulled the blankets closer to herself and woke Puck in the process, but he fell back to sleep soon after with little care.

Freyja slowly began to close her eyes and soon fell into a near peaceful as the ruby cooled down.

In her dream, Freyja was sitting in on a beach with one side was the endless salty waters and the other was a dark forest where mirrors hung on the branches like leaves. She felt the faint breeze of summer pass over her and mixing with the perfume of the sea and the trees. She felt a smile cross over her face as she closed her eyes and looked up at the sun, but opened them as she looked further down the beach to see a child in the distance.

In memory, she didn't know who this small boy was but deep down, she knew he was hers. He wore a creamy tunic, with wood brown breeches and was bare footed. He waved at her and she waved back, feeling such joy at looking at the child.

She rose up, feeling the grainy between her toes, she then walked towards the boy who stood and smiled at her. Just as she was about to reach him, he hurried off, farther from her reached. She laughed and hurried after him, but the child quickly ran from her, not even looking back to her.

"Wait!" she said as she hurried after him.

He then stopped but Freyja couldn't run to him for she felt strong hands keeping her from him. She frowned and looked over her shoulder to see a dark beast imbedding its claws into her dress, causing splotches of blood to appear into her shoulder.

"I smell Human flesh" the creature croaked as it slunk towards the child.

She stood numb with fear as she felt eight pairs of hands held her back; each one decaying from death and making her watch as the creature pounced onto the boy and drag him into the forest.

* * *

Nothing like listening to t.A.T.u., how nostalgic! Also, look up dream meanings! It is so fun!


	18. To Places Unknown

I just learned that I snort whenever I laugh hard… and probably when I am alone. Don't ask how I know this, for I just look at the stupidest things. Speaking of things: if supposedly Today DOES actually happen… Well, I guess you'll never be able to read this anymore… or_ WILL YOU_?

Restrained. Freedom- You can call Freyja just Freyja, for it is not like I am going to chew your head off just because you didn't add 'Lady' to her name! As for my username: I just picked it for the hell of it, lol. Ugh, yush, it appears that I am only having him looking into the politics of things rather than thing stating his own thought. But don't worry, you'll see what's on his mind and such pretty soon. Granted, I know knowing what someone thinks is a constant in stories; I am sometimes more of an actions person when I run out of dialogue or thoughts. But nope, the Ra'zac (despite being mentions) are not included in this, the monster is simply a simple metaphor and as what it is for, it is your choice, lol.

TheLastRider: Ehh, that dream wasn't creepy enough in my standards. However, that is the beauty of this story: a bitter sweet reminder that if he did fall for her, he would not only doom himself, but the child they will have (which in order to make this work, they _will_ be having the child). Eragon is also special, for the two have been battling it out for many years, so it is not surprising for Murtagh to see Eragon compared to his time with Freyja, who just met her for so few times. But gray matters will appear from time to time, just you wait.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, for if I did, it would be more of a Post Apocalyptic story (I am watching Mad Max: Beyond the Thunder Dome, where killing special people is okay and Tina Turner is a ruthless wasteland Amazon)

* * *

Chapter 17

Going to new places

Freyja woke up with a start, looking around and noticing Juliana standing there rather surprised.

"I am sorry that I woke you up, Lady Freyja, but are you alright?"

"I am perfectly fine," Freyja lied,smiling rather uneasily as she tasted the faint tears of last night; Gaynel entered, " just the wind".

It had appeared that storm continued to the next day, which Gaynel cheerfully said, "Don't worry; it's not as bad as it was last night. By the end of the day, it will go away!"

This did not really make her feel any better.

Freyja insisted that she was to eat in the library for she didn't like the sound of the wind hitting the window, and they did so with little fuss. But she wasn't exactly in the mood to eat.

On her place was a small, yet thick slice of ham, still warm from the kitchen with two eggs, a slice of thick toast and a bowl of porridge, which looked like there was an extra helping in it.

Her dream still lingered, causing her stomach to twist, and just by eating a piece of the ham seemed to have been a chore for her to even digest it. So when the servants were not looking, she would give Puck the slices of ham (which he devoured quickly) that all she had to do was eat a small piece of ham to eat, which she then finished half of the toast, one of the eggs, and ate a few spoons full of porridge, which even then, did not even leave a dent.

"How is your appetite?" Winomina asked as she cleared the tray from Freyja, who gave an unsure smile.

"I… wasn't really hungry," she said as she shrugged slightly as she rose from her seat and bent over to scratch Puck's ear, "Have you received any word from Lady Catherine?"

"We have not, Milady," Olivia responded as she gave an unsure smile, "but hopefully we'll get news from her maid, but you have a letter".

"Huh? Me?"

Olivia smiled and handed her the scroll, which Freyja giddily opened and laid it upon her desk.

Freyja smiled as she touched the curved letters before her. Douglas wrote to her!

'_Freyja, I knew it had been a few months since we spoke, and frankly, it felt like it had been years to me_,' The letter said, '_War has never seem so grim, and the stories we were told when we were children now seem over embellished. We managed to ambush a Varden caravan, that of which ambushed our own caravan; and once we finished them off, we were attacked by a blue flying worm! _

'_Granted, they do not quite look like worms, and I would suggest that you shouldn't tell them that, for the dragon attacked us with every fiber of it's being. It was frightening how quick a man could go, however, my captain ordered me to use the invisibility spell while others worked upon the shielding spell. And just by holding the damned thing off, I could have felt my entire life escape from me; it scared both myself and the others until the dragon got bored and left. _

'_While we retrieved the supplies, neither of any of us was in the mood to rejoice it, so we were ordered to rest, but I, on the other hand, am writing you this letter. I don't want this letter to be about death, but I am so shaken from it… I just couldn't stop reliving my memories of when we were children. I hope you are doing better than I am, for I could always go for some good news. Sincerely your friend: Douglas_'.

She smiled, but not at the death, but at reading her about her dear friend and how he was safe, but she then heard a faint cough.

She turned to see Franny and Phil standing side by side; Phil seemed to be rather empathetic with his hands to his sides while Franny had a smile upon her face with her hands before her.

"I am not exactly in the mood to stay in my apartment… is there anything interesting to visit?"

"Well, there is a green house that was connected to the castle last spring," Phil said with little care, "It's in the farthest in the left part of the upper castle".

Franny looked at Phil with uncertain eyes but merely grinned and nodded.

"A green house?"

Freyja heard of the word being used but never really saw one, and she was quite curious in seeing what it was, despite the wind and the storm.

"Yes… Now if you follow us, Milady," Phil said as they led her out of the library and into the main hall of her apartment, passing by the other servants.

Kurt stopped them and asked them where they were going, which Phil simply replied, "To the green house".

Kurt seemed to know where the green house was and let them by. Once they left her ward and into the halls that varied in style and length, Freyja couldn't help but notice something was wrong.

Franny kept on anxiously giggling while Phil seemed quieter than usual, not making a sarcastic remark on Franny's strange giddiness. It was after they crossed the main hall that Freyja finally confronted Franny with Puck squirming in her hands.

"Is there anything wrong?" She asked, trying to copy her father's tone of voice and failing.

"Well you see-"

"It is the storm," Phil said as he cut off Franny with a simple shrug.

"Oh y-yeah, it is. This is the first coastal storm I've been in, Milady".

Freyja didn't believe either of them but followed them further in into the hallways, and seeing that there were more courtiers and nobles here.

Once they saw her passing, they stuck their heads together and would look to her and back to their group, only to do the same thing again.

Then came the attacks.

Several mental probes came all at once poking and prodding, trying to tear into her mind, but she quickly made it so that they couldn't get in. She made it so her mind spread out, dispersing about like birds, away from their hold, and when one tried to catch one, she would make it so that all her mind would come together and mold into a large mold of a jelly: no matter what they prodded at her, the barrier would simply slink into its original form.

It was finally it seemed they had lost interest in their attempts to try and enter into her mind. Phil and Franny lead her out of the halls, but couldn't do anything for the courtiers who dared to enter her mind; that was Freyja's job to keep them out.

Then the courtiers seemed to have disappeared, and there was not even attacking her from a distance.

Freyja was happy because of this, but as minutes passed, she became unsettled.

They passed through an intersection which made Freyja stop and turn to her right. She felt a strange pull leaning to that direction that it felt like someone was pushing her to it.

The young woman turned from it and followed Franny and Phil until they reached a metal double door with flowers and small fairies were carved into the door's frame. Phil opened up the door, causing Freyja to somewhat cringe at the creaking of the door.

Freyja entered into the room which was rather dark due to the metal shutters covering the windows from the outside and the change of lighting but the smell was of faint dirt and of plants.

Large lanterns were held above head which gave off a lot of light over the shelved potted plants bellow, which looked like grim flowering heads with long flowering vine reaching to the wooden shelves. Freyja looked up in wonder before she heard footsteps quickly leaving; she placed Puck down and rushed over and tried to open it, but found that it wouldn't budge for her. She gritted her teeth and twisted at the knob and slamming on the door.

"We're sorry, Milady! The door suddenly shut itself," Phil said from a distance as Freyja somewhat gritted her teeth, "We can't enter… we'll get someone or someone rather quickly".

Freyja gave a flustered sigh and ran her hand through her unbound hair as she stepped back, feeling somewhat tiny now that she was stuck in the room. She didn't want to insult them or probe their mind, for if she did, they could take it the wrong way and not help her.

She looked down at Puck and picked him up.

"Looks like we're in this place together…," she said to Puck as a sudden slam of a heavy door was heard from the farthest end of the right hand side of the room.

* * *

If you are reading this, then I have good news! I feel this chapter really isn't good enough, so I will add chapter 18 later on tonight! See, sometimes it is worth reading till the end... or skipping, lol. Oh yes, I just had to bring back Douglas: Chekhov's Shotgun.

Oh yes, Gaynele's name escapes me entirely... So if you see 'Gaynele' and 'Gaynel', it's simply me constantly forgetting how I spelled her name


	19. The Cruelty of People

So any-ho anyway, I noted a few writers are beginning to start putting Lyric into the beginning of (not all) but a few of their chapters. Granted, I do my fair share of movies (Disney should stop putting out sequels for certain movies), but I guess that is the new small thing that is happening.

On other news, I changed my Summary thing; just cause.

Restrained. Freedom - Wha- unm nooo, well uhhh... umm... Okay, I am going to do something overly Cliche, bleh, sorry about that. However, what you wrote is a good observation... and since I haven't really showed how cruel courtiers and nobles can be... But I feel so disappointed in making you feel sorry for her :l

You can be disappointed in this chapter if you want... I am surely disappointed in it.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, for if I did, I would have like an _**AWESOME**_ Ninja/Pirate Battle **_TO THE DEATH!_**

* * *

Chapter 18

Human Behavior

Eragon looked at an somewhat small yet detailed map of all of Alagaesia, noting the towns and few cities Saphira had razed in her plight when she couldn't find him.

He knew she was desperate, and since their connection was strand by the mask Galbatorix put onto him, she was a merely going by rumors. But what worried Eragon was that each rare account of her attacks described her as a monster, a berserker hell-bent on killing everything in her path, whether they were innocent or not. She had changed so drastically, it almost frightened him whenever he thought Saphira would do such things.

Victims of her rage seemed to have lost the light in their eyes as they described it, as if she had not only eaten their friends and families, but also their souls.

To his fear, he had also heard that people were beginning to lose faith in the Varden, claiming that the dragon is already a threat to people and that it should be controlled, but knowing how things are, not even the elves could subdue her anger. Glaedr, despite his knowledge and being her teacher, couldn't probably even speak through her fog of anger.

He looked at his markings and noted that each attack was slowly making its way towards Feinster, and if Saphira is too narrow minded, it would either be a trap or bloodshed. He shut the book, mentally cringing at the idea of her attacking all the people in this city, and feeling all the hard work he and Saphira poured into had failed.

'_If only I could-_'

"Bergan, are you done with the green room?" Winomina asked as Eragon quickly slipped the book back.

"Yes I am," he croaked as the woman nodded and paused.

"I saw that you looked a little pale when you heard of the fate of Lady Megan," She said as she made sure her voice was low, "Do you worry for Lady Freyja or had that happen to you?"

Morzan: the bane of Murtagh's existence and the killer who would probably kill everyone if he had the chance to. All of his exploits disgusted Eragon whenever he heard them and sometimes he wondered How Murtagh could even raise his head to this.

"Somewhat so and I doubt Lady Freyja is in any trouble".

She gave a sympathetic nod.

"You seem to have a little faith in the cursed spawn… I guess we all have forgotten that he is the more controlled version of his father".

'_Controlled? Maybe…_ '

"Is Lady Freyja with Kurt?" Olivia asked as she entered from the hallway as she removed a wrap from her hair, "because I did not see her leave".

"Huh? Someone called me?" Kurt asked as he came from the brown room, "I do not know where Lady Freyja is… wait, where is Gaynel?"

Gaynel hurried on in and smoothed the apron in front of her.

"What?"

"I sent Juliana to retrieve clean sheets," Olivia said as she quickly defended the other girl, "But where is Phil and Franny?"

"Oh god no," Winomina said as she slapped her forehead.

"What is the meaning of this?" Kurt asked as he pinned the maid with a stare.

"Phil kept on having dealings with courtiers who are of Lady Catherine's side-"

'_So, it appears that there are spies amongst the staff…_'

"How could he do that? I do not understand why he would do such a thing," Gaynel said as she anxiously looking between them.

"Nobody ever should be friends with the spawn… only a fool would care for such a man as him," Winomina said as Eragon couldn't help but mentally disagree.

. . . .

Her heart began to beat as she took small strides to the left.

"… I guess… there is someone in here as well…," Freyja said as she hurried to the left side of the greenhouse.

Once she got there, she placed Puck down and tried to open the double doors with fish and what appeared to be water lilies decorating the door frame but couldn't.

Puck didn't seem at all phased by all of this and quickly hurried off yapping into the dim aisle of plants as she tried to snatch him up but failed.

Freyja quickly gathered her skirts and turned to the aisle and felt like she was prey for whoever was in the greenhouse; she then hurried off to the left hand corner and rushed towards the right hand side of the room.

Every time she heard a sound, she would quickly look back, for fear whoever was here meant to do harm onto her.

'_I smell human flesh…_'

She heard a yelp which made her froze; Freyja's legs began to buckle as a stream of tears began to fall.

"Puck?" she yelled as she felt her throat constrict, trying to look around but saw nothing but the potted plants; she was so afraid.

She could hear her feet hitting the floor loudly and her breath quickly catching up with her as she finally reached the door and tried to open it but was stopped by a strong hand slamming into the door. She let out a gasp and grabbed onto the bulky, hairy wrists, whimpering

She heard a pant and calm breathing and froze, finding that there was no way she could get out of it, so she grabbed and clung onto the wall. But the hand didn't allow it, for the rough hands jeered at her as she tried to mouse her way out the area.

The other hand, whoever it was, flew and slapped her, causing her to fall, but the other, the first one that was to the door grabbed her by her hair.

"H-huh!" She whimpered as she struggled, "Ah! P-please!"

"Do you know what _your husband_ has done?" the voice growled; her eyes squeezed so hard, she could see faint bluish dots in her vision.

"Uh! Please...! Oh!" She gasped as she felt her face being forced to look towards the man.

"Open your eyes".

She didn't, she was far too scared.

A fist came into contact with her eye, causing her to scream, and another into contact with her nose (which she heard a faint pop), and then her lip.

"How snobbish," came a woman's voice as a quick brandishing was heard, "let me help you-"

Freyja whimpered slightly as she felt a pinch, no, something far worse, for she felt her blood trickle down.

"P-please! I-I-! A-aren't you respectable- Ah!"

"'P-please, A-ah, a-ah!' stupid cow!" came the woman's voice, "we're protected!"

She quickly opened her eyes, gasping as she felt the blood go into her eye and blinding her, but she couldn't see them with her good eye for it was too dark. Freyja felt so numb, not feeling the collar of her dress being ripped, exposing her breast, which the two strangers mocked her for being to 'child-like', nor did she feel the slap the woman gave her or her ear being boxed.

It was when she heard a growling was when she looked down and saw Puck, biting at the naked heels of the woman, who gave an annoying growl.

"Stupid mutt!" she said as she kicked the dog fiercely and a soft crack was heard as he laid there whimpering.

It was then Freyja was ripped from her stupor and a strange feeling, something that made the ring on her finger grow cold. Freyja locked eyes with the man and stormed his mind, distorting every memory he had dear and tearing apart whatever joy he felt until he let out a soulless groan and fell to the ground.

The woman looked down and almost stared in disbelief as she then sunk to her knees.

"Oh god, oh please," she muttered as Freyja walked towards her, the younger girl cringing as she couldn't see fully, "Please! I-I can tell you who paid us! J-just please d-do not do to m-me what you did to him!"

But Freyja felt so numb... so torn that she too went into the woman's mind and instead of distorting her memories and ripping them apart, she made it so that the woman couldn't remember how to walk.

Freyja then picked up her dog, who whined and licked her face as they walked away from the cursing woman who cried in frustration and out of the greenroom.

Freyja kept one hand on the wall as she looked down at the droplets of blood falling onto her dress as she walked down the hallway.

'_Oh no... My dress... oh no, Julianna and Winomina are going to be so... disappointed in me... the dress is... ruined..._,' she thought as her eyes lazily looked down at the splotches of red on the material.

"Freyja?" Came a familiar voice as she dared to look up.

There stood Murtagh, his face clear of any emotion.

"H-huh?"

"Why are you here?"

Freyja said nothing, somewhat fidgeting, she shivered as he took stride to her, feeling his gaze upon her.

"I… was seeing the greenhouse…"

"You could have gone to other green houses, why did you choose this one?"

The wind howled and banged the windows, causing the lamps to slightly sway above head, and Freyja to somewhat flinch. He rolled his eyes as he watched her hug and whisper to the dog as the pug licked at her face.

She took a quick step forward, and saw that the noises were slowly getting louder.

Her dream quickly bled into her vision: the forest on one side and the beach on the other, the small child (_her_ child) smiling at her, the strange beast, and the hands. The smell of rotting flesh being laid upon the sun quickly filled her bloodied nostrils, causing her to choke.

'_I smell __**human flesh**__…_'

The next thing she knew, she was being supported, but she couldn't see who it was for all she saw was the light of the lamp overhead. The ring was already cooling off, but it soon became too cold that it felt as if her finger was frozen and aching to be cut off. She shuddered and it felt like air was ripping her throat as each breath seemed like a hard cough as the taste of blood touch her tongue.

"Breathe," Freyja heard as her vision of the light became brighter and her breath becoming quicker as she felt herself being held up, "Breathe".

* * *

I am watching a very good yet very harrowing movie: 'Goya's Ghosts', a history-drama movie. Okay, I am going to be rather frank, this movie is pretty dark and cynical; the movie have several good actors and actresses in it and just a damn sad movie.

Natalie Portman plays such a wonderfully innocent, harrowing young woman wrongfully accused of being a heretic just because she didn't eat pork (mind you, this is during the Spanish Inquisition, where you just do one thing they see wrong and you're royal ucked). They did a good job making her appear so different in so many ways.

Oh yes, PANIC ATTACK!


	20. It's all in your mind

There is a large amount of info at the bottom, which it would be wise to read the actual chapter instead going full blast to the end, I guess.

Restrained. Freedom- Naah, I wouldn't kill her off that easily. I am sure you've had bloody noses before, for whenever I get mine, I always get clots of blood in my mouth (they're really annoying) So no, she doesn't have a slit throat and since she has a split lip, she would have blood in her mouth; and as for Murtagh pulling a hero moment is kinda like a cliche in my 'book'. I wanted her to be entirely alone for this time, and I feel a little sadistic for doing it, but that's how things are right now. But because of this, it will get the two together :)  
I almost always watch a movie when I write, it is so fun, I especially like watching previews.

I fear that I am putting out too many chapters in a short time span, so I will stop myself from doing so. Galbatorix has hair... seriously, 'cause I was browsing around in the Inheriwiki thingy and they had a picture (or a rendition) of Galbatorix... Egad, Paolini.

I rushed this one... bleh

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, for if I did: More fan service

* * *

Chapter 19

Keeping that in mind

Her child was so close, she could literally touch him: his light brown hair was so soft to her touch and when she kissed his head, he smelt like incense that used to burn in the alters of the church. She was again sitting in the sand, but this time the boy was besides her, smiling as he handed her a sea shell and sat in her lap.

He said something in a language that escaped her, but it seemed that in this dream, she understood him for she nodded and spoke back to him in that strange language.

Freyja felt so happy as he looked up at her with such strange mature eyes, but if he was her child, what would she name him?

_Something meaningful_, a voice whispered, _Something that people will remember him by._

The voice was so strange and so sudden that she quickly took and held him close; looking about in fear for if the strange beast or the people would appear. Freyja looked down at the child who stared solemnly at her, wondering if there was anything to worry about or not. Deciding not to worry for him, she smiled, and to her joy, he smiled back.

She nestled her nose to his, causing him to giggle and playfully push her face away.

"Mordred…," she whispered to him as if it was a secret that only the two of them should know; the gulls from the sea softly cried out just as the ocean was reaching towards them, "Mordred…My little boy, my child"

. . . . .

He rummaged through his apartment and found a basin and a cloth and filled it slightly with the water from his bath. He then entered his sitting room and placed a cloth upon her brow, eying her as she twitched and kept on muttering something that escaped him.

He had put her on the couch he barely used and almost felt like he had killed her and was displaying her body.

She was in terrible shape when he found her; ruined, defiled, and who knew if she was raped. Working on her was somewhat difficult, for she would wake up either yelling, crying, or both, and he would always put her back to sleep. What was most difficult was her nose: broken and since she was delicate (far weaker than the girls he had been with) she was very sensitive, for she would wake from her haze and scream until he finally healed it.

Her injuries were mostly around her face: she had a severe cut in her eye lid that almost went into her eye ball, which didn't seem any better for he had to heal her eye for if was left unattended, she was to go blind in that eye. Her other eye was swollen, but it wasn't as severe as the other so he simply healed it slightly, just to take away the bruising and the swelling and her lip wasn't as bad as he cleaned it.

His energy wasn't really wasted, but all of her random outbursts took him by him, for while she was weak, she had a habit of catching him by surprise.

From what he could gather, her servants were long gone, probably off doing something else, or making excuses for themselves for the reason why she wasn't with them.

_It appears that Loyalty isn't a trait sought after around here, huh Murtagh?_

Murtagh's attention lingered onto the ring Galbatorix gave her: it seemed like a collar upon her neck, which hadn't been surprising. From what he had felt, the ring had already took up her own energy that it seemed almost impossible to remove it without causing any ill affects to her.

_Do you really think she was... what do you humans call it? Raped?  
_

'_How should I know? Do I look like an expert at checking?_'

_But she was mounted, then she would not sire your child. Would Galbatorix find you or she at fault?  
_

Murtagh scoffed at the idea and knelt down and touched the ruby, feeling that it was already in use, whatever it was needed for.

He touched her mind, finding it fairly easy to enter since she was not awake to put up a fight nor would she know of it. But before he would be able to fully enter her mind, Thorn stopped him.

_Are you sure you want to do that? You yourself hated-_

'_It will be quick and easy, and besides, I will not alter anything_'.

_Very well, if you are in danger-_

'_Which I doubt I will be_'

_If you are, then I will have to intervene._

'_Very well_'

. . . .

The landing was soft and the air was hot, it felt like he was back in the Hadarac desert again.

He looked around and saw that he was in a courtyard that was encircled by a sand stoned building that was at least two stories high. Above it was covered by a large, dark cloth that covered the 'sun' from above, waving heavily despite there being no breeze. There were windows all around, covered with wooden screens that had handcrafted flowers all over them.

Murtagh entered the dark door in front of him and moved the course cloth covering it.

In the small room were women combing their different hair, and at the end of the long train of women was a small child getting her hair combed as well by what appeared to be her older sister.

He was immediately felt with the feeling of security, and the smell of strong perfume filled him, causing him to gag at the sheer intensity of the smell.

"Damn it…," he muttered as he covered his lower face with the inside of his elbow and hurried out of the room unnoticed by the women.

From there, he entered yet another courtyard, but this one resembled a market place: people were standing in one place, as if frozen in time as they looked at other people's wares and gaggling for the prices. The only sound that was heard from the eerie silence was a gibberish that didn't seem to end.

Murtagh looked to see and saw a man in a dark skull cap wearing dark robes pointed to the sky and then to a book he was holding. Murtagh tried to make out what he was saying, but it was nothing he could understand, however, the people surrounding him seemed to understand them, for some were stopped in a mid nod or shaking their head as their eyes were closed in the midday sun.

He circled the group and noted a group of soldiers were held in mid-step, and those closest to probably hear the soldiers were just about to run into the group. Murtagh wasn't sure if it was for the man who wasn't paying attention to the soldiers coming for him or if it was for being around when the soldiers appeared.

Murtagh was already used to this scene but he stopped as he saw the same child from the room of women it was apparent that this child, who was now a young woman, was Freyja, and she was looking straight at him as she held the hand of her nursemaid. He moved to the side and followed her gaze to a closed door which the soldiers came from and up to the top to see the angry-looking old man he had seen a long time ago (despite it being a months ago).

Murtagh moved through the groups of people touched the wall beside a wooden door.

He pushed the door open and allowed himself through the barrier until he found himself in a beach, but to his right was trees with hanging mirrors of different shapes: some were ovals while others were jagged at the edges and some were very bright and others were dirty and in need of polishing and to his left was a sea that looked like a painting but it was moving.

He heard cooing and a soft laughter; looking up from the water he saw Freyja walking with a child.

He frowned as he got closer, seeing her face bright with joy as she held the child's small fist as he lightly fingered a lock of her hair that was being caressed into the wind.

Murtagh looked about and was about to walk closer to them them but nearly stumbled forward to see the empty eye sockets of a skull in the sand.

He looked around and saw hands holding him back and slowly the heads came up of the faces of the four women before Freyja: all either half eaten, bloated, or it was just their skulls, but he knew each one was his prior... _wives_.

"Murtagh, Murtagh, Murtagh," came a rustic voice as he looked up and saw Galbatorix behind Freyja and the child, who didn't seem to know or care if he was standing there, "You have sorely disappointed me".

. . . . .

Okay, here is quite a large amount of info, lol

Oh yes, Mordred: for those who know about the story of King Arthur, you would know that Mordred is popularly known for being the son of both King Arthur and his sister Morgan Le Fay. Supposedly it was foretold that Arthur was to be killed by a child born on May day; so Arthur, trying hard to beat fate, put all the babies born of noble birth and on May 1st onto a rickety boat and made it set sail. All except Mordred died. It is arguable on whether Mordred is a victim of fate or he tried to take the crown. Bleh  
Yes, I know: 'The hell is up with the "M's"?' Well… I just wanted to, and since Freyja herself has a name that links to some part of a culture, I thought 'why the hell not!'.

If I wanted the child to be a girl, her name would be Sibyl; there were many Sibyls (other word for prophetess) who came from many cultures and were popular in Christian artwork . I remember a few stories of them such as the Sibyl who offered to sell her 9 books of prophesies to a king for a price, and when he turned it down, she burned a book and again asked for a price until she had 6 books left and the king finally bought them.  
Then there was a story where the Greek God Apollo took a fancy to a Sibyl and wanted to fornicate with her, so he gave made her a deal: She can have anything she wanted as long as she gives him her virginity. So she took up a handful of sand and asked to live as many years as there were grains of sand in her hand. Well, he granted it but she refused to put out, so he made her wither away, due to the fact that she didn't ask for eternal youth. So the Sibyl grew very old, was kept in a jar until all that was left was her voice, and when people asked her what she wanted, she replied that she wanted to die.


	21. Damned if you do

Mmm... Phantom of the Opera. In the book, you can't help but feel a little pity for him (despite the fact that he becomes more and more violent as he spirals into jealousy). The age between Erik (the name of the Phantom in the book) and Christine are largely apart ,and his view on marriage was totally a no-sex thing: he believed that by having a good marriage with Christine was that he would buy her the things she wanted and that they would go for walks in the park with him wearing a mask (which he assumes would make him look normal). Compared to the movie, where Erik is a hot man who is probably the representation of a mature, more darker love than Raoul who offers a more innocent light (also, I refuse to acknowledge the Sequel of The Phantom of the Opera, '_Love Never Dies_')  
I am currently watching the '89 version of POTO staring Robert Englund, who is known for his role in Friday the Thirteenth as Freddy. And in nearly every POTO movie there is, Christine is a brunette while in the book, she is a blonde.

Restrained. Freedom- Eh, he is just checking, y'know? Just to make suresies lol. The market and the room with the women are memories, and him pushing through the wall is him moving into what she thinking/dreaming.

'_'- Yes, yes I did. Ironically Freyja is supposedly also the goddess of death.

Idiosy the Crusader- Ooohh Okay, yeah, from what I heard it was Morgan who was his mother.

Blufinger- I kinda make this up as I go, but the end of this entire story is pretty clear in my head (despite it change a few times...The factors change but the ending doesn't). However, I am glad you enjoy the tiny bits of characterizations, and while Eragon has a few sparks of his personality showing up, I find him rather simple and the situations he is in slightly complicated (I tend to focus more on the things said sometimes than what is thought sometimes).  
It may seem like it, but no, I am not going to do a threesome love affair; to me, Freyja is too much of a prude. I am a firm but not-so-crazy supporter of Arya and Eragon being together, cause even if his would-be girlfriend is a cripple, I doubt he would think little of her, for he had already 16 or so years chasing and ogling over her in this story. Speaking of our favorite crazed King: He will set things in motion this chapter.

LastDragonRider- Granted, I pulled the whole 'Popping out of nowhere' thing, but would it have been any better if I had him pop up during her attack? But as I mentioned before, this isn't my best or my most favorite chapter, so I'll work on it... but I'll work on it later on. However, I do know that in the matter of just a the two chapters were rather quick... compared to some chapters I guess.

On a side note, whenever a character enters another persons mind, all sequences are to be in this story was inspired by the movie 'The Cell' staring Jennifer Lopez. Paolini doesn't really get into detail when minds are probed, while I tend to do mine theatrical.

Consider this chapter a curve ball

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, for if I did, I would at least make a better reference than Paolini (lol, not a fan of Dr. Who)

* * *

Chapter 19

Lesser of the Two Evils

"How did you-"

Galbatorix's face became a deathly mask as he moved from his spot that was behind Freyja and the child and stood in front of Murtagh; entirely blocking his view. The hands began to drag Murtagh into the ground, their eerie laughter filling his ears as Galbatorix stopped them with a simple motion and looked down upon his young dragon rider.

"So, I guess you feel so proud over the fact that now you believe that you can throw the excuse of not being able to bed with her".

Murtagh knew that Thorn had felt his distress as the dragon tried to pull him out.

_Murtagh…!_

Galbatorix made a sour look and held up a fist, pushing Thorn out and severing their link.

The mad king made it so that while doing this, he had put as much pain at doing it as possible, causing the younger man to muffle a gasp and the red dragon let out a screech in harrowing pain. The scenery around them changed as well for the beach that was of many bluish greens and soft roars mixed with the cries of the seagulls vanished and the forest that had leaves and mirror shards were all swallowed up by the cold darkened void that was apart of Galbatorix's mind.

Galbatorix dug the heel of his boot into Murtagh's shoulder and pushed him deeper into the cold abyss, causing the fingers from the corpses to go deeper into the younger man's flesh. The pain was damn near unbearable but Murtagh knew better than to let any more out a cry, for he knew Galbatorix wanted that.

"I have already conveyed her mind already, for the ring she posses is a link that allows me better access to her. She was not seeded, so you cannot claim infidelity," The older man said as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully," but I will remind the moronic courtiers of how annoyed I am or else they will never take me serious, I guess," but as quickly as he made the smile, it vanished into a disappointed scowl, "I have to admit, I have been spoiled you by allowing you to get over your prudish behavior, but now I have to childish charade, you have_ to grow up_".

Struggling from his bindings, he bristling and used his mind to push himself from the illusion of the dead wives and every ounce of his anger to try to attack the the older man who simply yawned.

Many skeletons, corpses with bloating tongues waving from their mouths, and people with missing parts held Murtagh down with not only their strength but the smell of rotting flesh was too much for the young rider.

"You are such a child!" Galbatorix said as if he was an instructor coaching Murtagh on controlling his anger, but the mad king quickly smiled, "So much like your father whenever you do not want to do something".

"I am not like him!" Murtagh screamed as he felt weights quickly being slammed onto him; he struggled, but to no avail while the stench grew worse.

Galbatorix eyed him and then laughed, as he forcefully pushed the young riders head down, almost to the limits.

"Oh, but with that anger of yours, it is hard to tell," Galbatorix said as he yanked Murtagh's head up, "But tell me, do you like seeing Thorn in pain?"

Murtagh felt compelled to ask the mad king if he was stupid, but held it back, slightly biting his tongue before answering the older man.

"I do not…!" he growled through his teeth as Galbatorix had a particular glint in his eyes,"My lord!"

"And I am sure you remember your countless failures of retrieving the female dragon, yes? Oh, how many times did you have to save _Thorn, hm_? For it seemed that Saphira had done quite a number on him and appears to becoming more brutal each time you meet up with her… I wonder what would happen if I sent Thorn to fight her by himself? You know, to perhaps even out the 'playing' field so that you can stand by on the ground".

Murtagh felt a wave of terror wash and fill him as Galbatorix suggested this, feeling as if the mad tyrant took a poker and stabbed it into the young man's insides and was twisting it around. Nowadays, it was hard to see if this old man knew what he was saying or not, and it frightened the young Dragon rider by what he was hinting at.

"You wouldn't dare…!" Murtagh challenged as he mustered up his anger despite fear building up inside of him, "Thorn is valuable! You need him to-"

"But is he a female?" Galbatorix asked as his twisted grin spread further across his face, "No, he isn't, he is a male, a male that I am beginning to lose as much faith in as well as his rider. But tell me, how far are you willing to go to save Thorn from certain… oh how shall I put this? Death?"

Murtagh shook all over as if cold water was thrown upon him.

"Well?"

"What do you want?" Murtagh asked, hating himself for allowing his voice to sound strain.

"I heard the last city she raided had no survivors, in fact, she slaughtered all the life stock and only ate a third of it while leaving the rest to rot in the sun..."

"What do you ask of me, _my lord_?"

"I see you have forgotten why I put so much into your personal life. Let me put it in words you will understand. Which is important: your immature pride or your dragon"?

'_He knows my answer, but what is he getting at?_'

"Well? I do believe Saphira would _enjoy playing_ with Thorn again".

"Thorn…" Murtagh said softly, feeling every ounce of disappointment and disgust filled him, but not because of his choice, but rather, how easily the mad king had torn him down.

"Huh? What was that?" Galbatorix asked as he leaned closer to the dark haired youth, pretending he couldn't hear him at all.

"I … I want Thorn to live, my lord".

Murtagh felt bile slip its way to his mouth, and all he could do to keep it down was by thinking of the red dragon.

"I am very disappointed at the fact that I will not taking matters into my own hands You have two days to decide-"

"Stop beating around the bush...!"

"Oh, aren't you so eager? I have already put my efforts into getting a rider by presenting it commoners, nobles, criminals, mad men, and such. I myself have been trying so that my own seed could try and be a rider" Galbatorix said as he crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side.

"Why should I put any effort into this if you are trying so hard,_ my lord?_"

Galbatorix sighed and pinched the top of the bridge of his nose.

"I am not to be the only one to carry the burden. There is a reason why I gave you a wife, for I would prefer the child to be _legitimate_ and not a _bastard_. Give me a child of your blood as well as your wife's blood, and I will make it so that_ your_ Thorn will be helped to the full extent if Saphira so much as appears out of nowhere but if you refuse… expect your dragon to fight by himself".

Murtagh said nothing as the corpses and, bodies, and skeletons vanished and he was standing there, looking at his hands. He had given up so quickly...

"You have six days until Saphira arrives, by then, I can only hope you contact me again…," Galbatorix reminded his as his voice faded and instead of standing in a darkened space Murtagh was back looking over Freyja.

'_Thorn's safety at the cost of my own child…_'

So much emotion rushed into him as he felt the makeshift levy break from beneath his feet; part of him cared more for Thorn and that he would do anything for him but his other half argued for the future of his unborn child, a child who was merely a thought and when born,_ would have no say in its fate..._

'_Do I have the right to force my own child to serve underneath this bastard? But why should care? It is not like I'll care for him-_' Murtagh thought stopped as he remembered the brief glimpse of the dream Freyja was having.

He remembered her smiling at the child she was holding his hand, looking so proud and she looked down as this dream child. But it was just a mere dream.

_Murtagh, what happened? Was she mounted?  
_

Thorn's voice was strained, and didn't have any volume to it.

'_No... she hasn't... but I… I was given a choice_'

_What do you mean? What are your choices?_

'_Thorn, no matter what, you will always be my choice_'

_What do you mean?_

But Murtagh remained quiet and well guarded from Thorn's attempts to find out.

* * *

I adore the 1925 version of Phantom of the Opera for it's accuracy to the book. Oh-ho, Lon Chaney (awesome makeup) and Mary Philbin (you can tell she didn't go to acting school... But she is a good actress none-the-less) play such a nice pair as Erik and Christine and Norman Kerry who plays Raoul has one intense stare. Also: the Red Death costume is freakin' pimp!


	22. Why hello Sunshine!

I watched a really good movie: The Great Dictator staring and directing Charles Chaplin, his speech at the end of the movie is very moving.

But I have also seen a movie called 'Grimm Love' where a college student looks into a case of a cannibal and a man who willingly gave his body to him. It is an actual event: It happened in Germany in where the two met a forum where people talk about their fetishes. To some, it did not end well, but I guess to the both the cannibal and the man willing, they did what they wanted to do.

But O-M-G! I got the Born This Way album! _**Yessss…! **_

Restrained. Freedom- Your welcome, and yes, Galbatorix was pining for Murtagh to claim the whole 'she's spoiled! I can't touch her' thing. And I am sure we can all agree that Galbatorix is just in it for the kid. This is one of the reasons why I like characterizing Galbatorix as an empathetic bastard who can you crush you underneath his thumb. By using his thumb to crush you, tee-hee.

Witchy Pixie- It's all good… we've all had that thing happen to us (even with the skimming), but we all tend to get around to it eventually. Urgh, sorry, Wait, is that my earlier chapters or my more current? Either way, I know, I tend to have a terrible habit of doing that. But thank you, I tend to try and strive for the actual characters.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, for if I did, I would have given Galbatorix more cameos

* * *

Chapter 20

On Better Terms

She awoke in a daze: her hands were soggy, her hair was tangled and her eye and her lip ached her. But she couldn't forget what had happened: her servants betrayed her and people had hurt her for _no good reason_.

If it was because of her husband, why couldn't they confront him? She remembered all her younger years where respectable people, even the peasants, would confront her father and leave the rest of her family alone.

'_These people… are barbaric!_' she thought as she felt her chest heave and her ring grew rather cold to her hot skin, '_I did nothing to them and they treat me as if I did them wrong… It's not fair!_'

Freyja's breathing became slightly fast, cringing at the dull pain, but then remembered the cuts and the hits she received…

She felt someone touch her shoulder and she stumbled off from the couch she was laying on and quickly cowered into a corner before defensively covering her head.

"Can you _please_ stay still?"

She looked and saw Murtagh standing by the couch, looking at her… strangely. Freyja tried her best to get small as she hugged her knees and buried her face into her knees.

"I… I am so… Sorry! I… I do not… I… I was-"

"If you were going to say 'raped', you weren't," Murtagh flatly stated as Freyja shoved her face deeper into her knees, but she had heard him make a sound, like he was clearing his throat before she never thought he would ever say, "_I am sorry_, but I looked through your mind, and was able to clear some things that were muddled. You were simply beaten"

Freyja slowly looked up and hiccuped as he rubbed his forehead and took a step forward, causing the young girl to somewhat flinch.

"Look… I am not going to hurt you," he said as he seemed to be holding back his sarcastic tone as she noticed he was holding something white in his hand, "I have… a gown for you… I do not know your size but I grabbed it from the laundry: sometimes, servants are as incompetent as the people the snobby courtiers they serve".

Freyja simply stared at him as he walked towards her and showed her a night gown that looked like it was bound to be large and drape over her figure. She looked at it and began to weakly push herself up with the help of the wall and lightly bit her lip.

"I… I need help… can you… help unlace my back?" She asked as she carefully maneuvered with one hand on the wall as she exposed her back to him.

He pulled the strings, Freyja somewhat shaking the hushed sound filled her ears as if it was amplified.

Once the dress was loosened, she gave a shaky sigh, before she began to throw off her gown as well as anything she was wearing until she was fully naked. Hugging herself and on the verge of having a breakdown, she couldn't stop herself from shaking all over but Murtagh lightly allowed the gown to touch her shoulder.

Distracted from her near emotional breakdown, Freyja looked over and gave a gurgled 'thank you' before sliding it on and tightening the string around the neckline of the gown and kicked the garments away from her.

While the warm, gold colors of the gown showed brightly on the deep, moss green rug, they seemed to have turned dull and dirty before her eyes. Their value deteriorated as the images of what had happened; she didn't care if it was the cheapest clothing or if it was a favored hand-me-down, they were useless now. Freyja didn't want to even see the gown again and it seemed Murtagh caught onto this and picked them up, but made sure she wasn't near them.

"There is a fire going in the study," he said as he locked eyes with her as he had the rags in hand, "come this way".

Freyja stood staring at him, as he stopped halfway and turned to her.

"What?"

"Where… is P-Puck?"

"He is fine," Murtagh replied quickly, but she did not move from her spot.

He gave a curt sigh as he gave a quick gesture for her to follow and walked out of the room. Freyja blinked as she hurried after him, seeing that he was going to the waiting area.

Freyja held her breath, fearing the worst, thinking that her dog was dead, even though part of her knew better.

But Murtagh simply pointed to the left side of the room, where a small sandy colored ball was curled on a dark colored cloth.

She let out relieved giggle as she hurried over and grabbed the dog, who awoke with a jolt. Freyja felt so relieved to see Puck groggily eye her as if to ask her why she had disturbed his sleep, but she simply kissed his forehead and held him close.

"Do you feel better?"

She nodded but she didn't feel entirely satisfied; not until the clothes were burned.

Once she was on her feet, he nonchalantly led her out of the room and into a dim, gray ash walled hallway with dark cherry wood flooring and to the left, away from the main entrance and to the last room on the right before the door that probably led to his sleeping quarters.

The study was tiny, yet cozy with two arm chairs that had probably seen better days but still looked rather comfortable with a desk in the same condition but it too seemed to be having secrets like secret compartments. All were situated more to the right hand side of the room while the fireplace, which was cracking softly, was leaning to the left side near rather large window that separated the fireplace from the door leading to his quarters.

Freyja was shaking with dread and somewhat excitement, as tears began to well up in her eyes, and Murtagh held the clothes to her, which she quickly took with a tight fist. She put Puck down before s she gently tossed the clothes in and grabbed a poker that was hanging dutifully on the right hand side and poked the quickly burning clothing.

She let out a muffled, near stricken laugh as tears fell down her cheeks and onto her dress as she placed the poker slowly onto the ground with the hot tip. Puck walked to her and licked her ankle anxiously and she picked him up while scratching his ears as she couldn't help but happily eye the fire, lost in her own mad joy.

"You shouldn't stare into the fire, it is bad for your eye sight," he said as she was reminded he was there, "come over here, I also brought some food".

Freyja sat there for a moment or two before getting up and noted how one of the arm chairs was situated right up to the desk with a plate and a large cup.

She looked at Murtagh who was seated at the desk opposite to the armchair; she touched the soft faux material of the reddish velvet as she slumped into the comfortable chair and eyed the gumbo and the bread. The amount of the gumbo seemed too big for her to stomach, and seeing Murtagh was simply eating his, she didn't want to put him off by her not eating. So she took the napkin and placed it on her knee before taking a spoonful and eating it while breaking off a piece of bread for Puck.

While the gumbo was good, but she still felt like her stomach was being squeezed into a smaller mass.

"What is it?" Murtagh asked, his tone was oddly tamed, and his eyes were so strange, like a cloudy day: you didn't know if it was to rain or not.

"W…Why…"

"Yes?"

She pushed the bowl and the bread away from her before continuing.

"How… did you know where… I was?"

Murtagh placed the bowl that was in his hands onto the desk, wiped his mouth and studied her.

"Do you know why there aren't any servants here?"

Freyja blinked and looked about, finding he was right.

"They simply do not like me. Servants try to stay as far away from me as possible and courtiers have it in for me. Granted, a servant can stand by me, but they do not want to serve under me; I do not know why, I guess it is simply because so many people believe I am going to kill them," he explained as Freyja shifted in her seat, feeling oddly small as Puck nestled his nose into her hand while licking it, "So when people do come near here, I cannot help but feel the need to investigate. However, from what had happened, these people didn't care that they were near my quarters, the only place where you can almost get away with murder".

Freyja said nothing as she clenched the napkin in her hand and began to white knuckle; the ring on her finger began to feel icy on her hand and while in her other hand, Puck looked up at her. But she shivered when he said 'get away with murder'.

"But that would only had happened if I was not there," he apathetically added as if he thought that would have helped.

"B-b-but w-why me? Why?"

Murtagh's lips twitched as his eyes moderately darkened.

"They do not care all they want is to make things suffer so they can feel something," Murtagh said as his gaze was unwavering, "Those who trust people too easily become wounded by what others had done to them. There are so many people that it is so easy to lay out your trust but it is hard to recover from if they break your trust. I had the luxury of staying away from them as long as I could possibly remember, however, I encourage that you too should stay put for a while before showing your face again".

Freyja slowly soaked up the knowledge that was given to her, wiping away the what was left of the tears and the tears that were slightly flowing.

'_Stay put… Keep to myself… I have been doing that haven't I? But maybe… I wish I have never left home…_'

The feeling of yearning filled her heart, and threatened to tear itself apart.

"M…Murtagh… May I sleep… in your bed?" she asked in a small voice, feeling that if she did sleep alone, she wouldn't be able sleep.

There was a long pause that followed as she had said this; Freyja began to slightly fret as Murtagh remained rather composed, clear of any emotion.

" I… I'll sleep on the floor if you-"

"I understand what you mean… You may," Murtagh said as Freyja gave a soft sigh of relief.

But she couldn't shake the feeling that he was watching her closely.

* * *

I am moderately proud to say that I have a small mix tape going on here! For those who do not know mix tape is, it is a collaboration of favorite songs and other things._ WARNING_: Views on specific music may vary! None of the songs chosen are to represent a couple or a specific character; all songs are simply chosen for the feel of the story. However, if you want, just post a song you think matches with this story and I'll listen to it. It's all good, yo


	23. Eavesdropping isn't so bad after all

Restrained. Freedom- Why thank you- oh I see what you did there! Oh-ho silly you!

Mind you, since Murtagh is like, 3 or so years older than Eragon, and sources say he was near 18 years old when Eragon was 15, and then add two years for Eldest and perhaps Brisingr, he would probably be 20 years old then you slap in the 15 years onto it, you get 35 years old. To some people, there would be a huuuuuge issue in the age gap, and we all know Galbatorix doesn't care. However, I could be wrong about Murtagh's age.

I finished 2001: Space Odyssey (trippy music and trippy footage) and was watching Red Eye (Sexual tension? Mmm, especially during the bathroom scene, oh baby) and I just found a movie where Cillian Murphy (A.k.a the guy from 28 Days Later or rather, The bad guy from Red Eye, and The Scarecrow from Batman Begins) is a trans-gender who goes by the name of 'Kitten'. Oh-dear-god, that man… He pulls it off! His flowery voice is funny, but dyamn, he looks fine. With such striking pale, blue eyes.

I have also seen the Kings Speech again: a very nice movie with a compelling score at the end of the movie when he manages to deliver his speech (in spite of his stammering). I can understand why it made a killing at the awards.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle. Random thing: in Lady Gaga's the 'Alejandro' and the 'Born This Way' music videos you see that some of the backup dancers are lip syncing to the song. You have to keep an eye out for them though, lol.

* * *

Chapter 21

Sharing the bed again

Never had the urge to have sex with someone ever fill him with dread.

Correction, there was a few times before, but none of them had Galbatorix literally breathing down his neck.

Just to have sex with a child.

There is _definitely_ _nothing_ _wrong with __that_.

Despite being knocked out for 6 or so hours, Freyja slept the rest of the night on the right hand side of his bed where she was completely oblivious to what he was thinking and completely vulnerable.

She slept with her hands balled into her fists underneath her chin and her face was clear of any worries and had a near angelic calmness to her face. The light smell of scented oil and lavender had caught his attention and made him simply stay awake like the first few nights he had been with her. But unlike those nights, she faced him with her naked shoulder exposed slightly and her hair slightly covering the left side of her face.

Sometimes, she would stir but she remained asleep.

Near 2 or 3 in the morning he sat up and simply looked at her small form with her rat-dog was at her feet snoring, which was rather beyond him on how she could actually sleep through it.

_Murtagh, are you still up?_

'_I_ _can't sleep… And there nothing to look forward to this morning_'

_Hmph, I would suppose so, for this storm seems a bit relentless. I hear that Saphira is coming this way, and it is getting these humans up in a worry: do they face the storm or the dragon?_

'_That's a funny observation_'

_ I could do better, but I am tired of being cooped in here. I will be flying about in the night, but I will return in the afternoon, if the weather becomes too turbulent, or if I see Saphira, I will be sure to double back to here. _

Murtagh sighed as he rubbed his eyes and finally closed them, ignoring the snorts of her pet rat sleeping and listened to Freyja's soft breathes and the pounding of the rain.

All of those hours seemed that it was 15 minutes before he woke up to the clatter of her mutt's nails.

He opened his eyes to see the empty space which Freyja used to be and sat up to see her back as she slowly walked down the hallway and allowing her finger tips touch the wall.

Murtagh let out a sigh as he got up and he washed and clothed himself and once done, he found Freyja in the small, dingy library that was filled with books that while not entirely his favorite, were fairly decent.

When he was leaving, he made sure he didn't get her attention as he left the ward, and as he moved through the maze like hallways, when he caught sight of the servants who looked more anxious than usual. But he wasn't in the mood to get any attention from the already fearful looking servants, so he cast a simple spell that hid him from human sight. That very spell was one of Galbatorix's favorite spells as well as one of his perfected spells that he would cast and use for ambushes and which was how Arya was crippled in the first place.

When Murtagh reached the kitchens, it seemed there was preparations for a feast were being made, for he spotted a small shark, a few seals, swordfish and a dolphin. While to the common person or lower ranked noble, it would seem like a delicacy of eating such creatures, but to Murtagh, who was brought up in a snobbish upbringing, he was too used to eating such meats.

'_I do not recall any holidays today, or even any festivals either. It seems it is either someone's birthday or maybe someone died_,' he thought to himself as he moved to an empty corner.

Once he had to cast off the spell and moved from the corner nobody seemed to even notice Murtagh or him taking a forgotten but clean bowl. With that, he took a few hard boiled eggs, some salt, a few slices of bread while skillfully 'borrowing' a small jar of jelly and honey which was caused a young maid to go pale white in fear as she looked for it, and was able to take a few handfuls of grapes and two rather large apples that were moderately altered by magic (and had been proven safe to eat, but why should he care? An apple was an apple).

Getting the food was the easy part, but getting plates and silverware were another issue.

Already he had some people look his way when he requested for two bowls of soup and even now a cook or two noticed him in the blunder of things and seemed to have been waiting for everyone else notice him.

'_Took them a while_,' he sarcastically thought to himself as he brushed passed one, who did their best in not touching him.

He knew they were curious about why he asked for food, for he seldom would have asked for anything from the kitchens mostly because he would always hunt his own game for as long as he wanted. So he meagerly grabbed two tea cup holds, even though he wasn't paying any attention to what he picked out, stared down a seasoned cook and simply placed the small plates into the bowl and then grabbed a few spoons from the grand drawer.

Once he was done, he left in the same fashion he came through with the invisibility spell and was about to take it off because it was now not so cluttered halls but stopped mid-step when he caught sight of the Duke and the former Duchess of Feinster were passing by in a hallway alone.

Quickly Murtagh knew why they were alone: a magician (possibly a lesser magician in his standards, for he could easily see through the illusion easily as well as hear the Duke and the former Duchess) was walking behind them with his hood up and a charm over his head. Murtagh knew this charm was to prevent the magician from eavesdropping as well as only hear selected things, and from where he saw, the charm was legit.

"Is there any way we can properly punish them without starting anything?" The duke asked, already looking he was holding up the world and then some, "We cannot afford both Galbatorix _and_ the Varden at our doors, Mother. Already we had done it once before, and look where that had reached us. Countless embargoes on our ports thirteen years ago, the Empire getting the better trades and the Varden complaining and not trading enough, and all of our men having a surprise recruitment now and then given to the Varden and the Empire: we're already stretched too thin and now since this happened..."

"We should have seen this before it happened, for we were all too blind," Lorena said as her aged face creased, "and by using commoners no less in order to avoid dirtying their hands. Already Margret and her brother Erik had quickly withdrawn themselves when they caught wind that they were found out to be the ones who sent the commoners, and to make matters worse, they support the Varden".

"My lord," the magician said as he turned quickly bowed, causing the two to stop just 3 feet from Murtagh, "a message has been relayed onto me. I fear… it is not to be your liking".

Adohlfin brow furrowed while Lorena bowed her head.

"Relay it to us," he said as he ran his hand on the side of his head.

"'If Adohlfin, the duke of Feinster, wishes to undo the wrong that was befallen upon Lady Freyja, wife of Murtagh Morzanson, then he must choose to execute the leaders of the assault as well as the tools, or,'" The magician said, stalling to lick his lips anxiously; Murtagh knew this sign and took a grape and ate it, watching the drama unfold before him, "Kill the children and spouses of the mastermind's family as well as the tools'".

'_I see_,' Murtagh thought as he saw the horror spread across the Duke and former Duchess's face, '_An effective way to get the point across. But why would Galbatorix do this for one woman? Maybe he wants to show that he will is close friends with Freyja that people will not threaten her_'.

"Is… Is there anything else?" The Duke asked, his voice strained, already beaten by an order.

"The king also confirmed that…. The female dragon is coming this way… My lord".

Lorena's face became older as she let out a defeated sigh as her wrinkles multiplied while Adohlfin looked like he was on the verge of fainting and Murtagh couldn't blame them: the very dragon that helped create the bond between Feinster and the Varden was now the one thing that will tear it apart.

'_Oh the irony_'.

But as much as they seemed afraid, Adohlfin seemed to have remembered his rank he and changed, straightening his back and his gaze darkened. Murtagh watched with indifference as the Duke underwent a great transformation, and simply felt rather bored with this and wanting to eat.

"Very well. We shall demand that the Varden give us protection and if they do not give it, we shall comply with the Empire".

"Adohlfin" Lorena said as she had an uncharacteristic look of despair on her face, "You're playing with fire; if you show your alliance to one, the other will attack you".

"Exactly," Adohlfin said snapping his fingers, creating a loud snap in the stagnant air, "The Empire will know that we will make our choice but we will also ask for appeasement in order to get their protection, for we can also promising a surplus in supplies. But mother, how can we trust the Varden now? Already Nasuada has promised us protection, and where is it? Surely she should have told us this, but instead, the Empire told us instead; this is a clear sign how she cannot control the dragon and she merely says things in order to get people to agree with her. Wallace," he quickly said as the Magician looked to him, "Tell the Varden that if they do not call off the dragon, they would be breaking their treaty with us, and thus forcing us to take up the Empires orders and will be seeking their protection. If they say 'no' or reply with an excuse that they cannot control the dragon, then we shall respond by severing all but a third of our trades, request half of the troops we have given them and refuse sanctuary to any members of the Varden".

The magician nodded and stood as he connected to the other minds in order to send the message.

"I trust that your decision will help us, Adohlfin," Lorena said as she gave a pained face, probably having done this before, "for already we have so much on the line.

'_Well, if Feinster is still intact when I return, I guess he did make the right decision_,' Murtagh though blandly as he walked away from the small group.

* * *

Just to tell ya, I added a new song: gotta love repetition, lol

Also, you can check up 'Teardrop' by Massive Attack. The song, as some of you might not know, is the intro of House M.D., though, do not let the music video put you off, tee-hee while Newton Faulkner does a splendid cover on the song.


	24. Ways to skin a cat

Apocalypse Now: TV tropes was right! MOOD WHIPLASHES UP THE WAZOO! At one part of the movie there cover fire and stuff is going on and this guy is talking about surfing, standing perfectly still! And I stopped watching it when they found a puppy after they killed its owners because the young woman tried to stop them from finding the dog, but they mistook her action as if she was hiding some weapons. Apparently, she didn't want them to the dog. (…)

Restrained. Freedom- Yeah, I wanted to show how Murtagh is when people other than him are in pain. And since he is empathetic to most of a lot of people's pain by simply watching people's lively-hoods are at stake while he nonchalantly eats grapes? If I had added anything else, he would have eaten everything, lol.

Oh yes, something very, VERY important at the bottom!

I do not own the Inheritance cycle, for if I did, I would have added a fairy that would keep on saying 'Hey look! Hey! Hello! Hey look!'

* * *

Chapter 22

Their own way

When Franny entered Freyja's apartment that was cue for everyone to wait in the sitting room and get ready to either comfort or greet her. Everyone stood and waited as the young maid bowed her head and tried to blend in with the wall as the minutes past and everyone became anxious.

Getting bored of waiting, Juliana moved from where she stood and looked down the hallway and said that neither Freyja nor Phil was there. All eyes turned to Franny and then came the urging.

At first it was light hearted and nice, but the more she put up a fight, the more rough they got, and soon they were literally forcing her until finally she broke and spoke. But it wasn't the type of information they wanted to hear.

Kurt had a look of pure contempt on his face and his hands slightly tightened as he crossed his arms.

"You sold her to the wolves," he said, his voice was frigid and his eyes grew darker as they dangerously surrounded her.

Eragon couldn't help but agree with him, but he knew there was another side to this story. He knew Phil could have chosen Gaynel or Juliana, but he picked Franny instead. And Eragon had to include himself in this as well, but it appeared that Franny had something that Phil or whoever could use against her.

"I… I couldn't have stopped him!" Franny whimpered as she defensively held her hands up, "I couldn't-!"

"How much did they pay you?" Winomina hissed as she hunched over dangerously.

"T-they didn't pay me _anything_!" she insisted as she flinched at the intensity of their voices, "I… I j-just c-couldn't do a-anything! I-I d-didn't think that-!"

"Oh really?" Olivia spat as she boxed Franny's ear and twisted, making the girl fall to her knees and leaned forward to try lessen the pain, "You're the stupid _bitch_ who didn't think and returned probably thinking we would understand and welcome you with open arms! While Phil decided that he is too much of a coward to face the consequences! You filthy faced skank! And to think, you were so willing to help and so eager to care for Lady Freyja, only to stab her in the back!"

Eragon noticed Gaynel and Juliana stood aside from all of the violence and solemnly watched as their own friend was being spat and verbally beaten along with her ear being twisted. The stood closer to one another as Franny cried, and would only lean closer to each other the more Franny let out a cry for help or a cry. Like them, he stood almost numb with confusion and some annoyance as he eyed the young girl being relentlessly interrogated, and as much as he didn't enjoy this, he couldn't find himself to stop it.

As much as this punishment seemed over done, Eragon couldn't help but feel frightened by his own empathy towards this. He knew that what the other servants were doing was moderately right, yet Franny had to state her side of the story as well. And he had noticed that all of Franny's cries were merely making them angrier and aggressive, which wasn't good. So quickly stepping from his spot, he gently placed a hand on the inside of Olivia's arm, causing her to jump as she was distracted from what she was doing.

"Wait," Eragon gasped as he managed to get in between Franny and the seasoned servants, " Even if what she had done is unforgiveable, what would Lady Freyja say about this? Surely she wouldn't wish any ill will even if Franny and Phil had done her harm. And killing Franny will not bring Freyja back and we will all be just as guilty as one another".

Everyone seemed to stare at him and digesting he had said and it seemed five minutes passed before Olivia gave one last painful twist and then shoving Franny away as Eragon stood in the middle of the faithful servants and Franny, who was cupping her ear painfully and crying.

"I… I c-couldn't do anything! My mother is already selling herself to keep her business afloat! And my father- he needed h-hel-help for his back and is being threatened by the loaners! P-please, you have to b-believe me! Juliana! You know! You've met them before!" Franny asked frantically as the other girl looked away from her, but not feeling defeated, she turned to Gaynel, "G-Gaynel! You know how I have k-kep-kept nearly all of my earnings away! Please!"

The girl looked at the two anxiously, trying hard to get them to admit that they knew, but Eragon knew that they wouldn't do it. So he had to push things along.

"Surely you wouldn't lie just to make sure you are not a part of it. If you were in Franny place, wouldn't you need help?" He wheezed as he somewhat cringed, "To be fair, you _did_ talk to her about her family, Juliana, when it was supper time".

The young maid threw him a look that clearly read that she didn't want to be included in this, but it was too late for Kurt gave Juliana a sharp look, causing her to straighten up.

"Is she telling the truth?"

"Yes," the maid replied averting her eyes.

"And I take it she _does_ save up her earnings for her parents, Gaynel?"

"She does…" the other muttered.

The older maids looked to Kurt who had a clear expression on his face, and then rubbed his chin before giving a sharp nod.

"Even if what you had done was unforgivable, it is not us to give you the punishment. Bergan, you were right at pointing this out and bringing us back to our senses. However, Franny, you have failed your duty at being a servant to your Lady, and so _if_ Lady Freyja is alive and _when_ she returns, she will give you're a punishment that is worth as much pain you had willingly given her up to," Kurt firmly stated before lowering his chin as he looked around the room, "Phil is as good as a dead man, for Lady Freyja was the last straw: he had done things like this before, but the nobles had helped him dodge anything that would affect him from helping them. But they had gone too far and this will not be shrugged off like before. I shall issue a report, so that they can find Phil and bring him so that he and you, Franny, could go on trial for what you have done".

As he finished, he was about to leave before Olivia coughed, making him stop.

"What if Freyja is dead?"

Kurt, while having an understanding gaze, formed a forlorn smile.

"Then we all shall receive punishment".

As Kurt left, it seemed that the mood only improved only slightly but the seasoned maids glared daggers at Franny who crumbled as she tried her best to disappear while the younger maids had turned to ignoring her.

Eragon couldn't help but agree at what weathered man had said as they spent the next morning tearing at their hair until they received news that the would-be attackers were found in a 'questionable state'.

But that didn't help Franny whatsoever for they still ignored and glared at her.

Many people said that one was hollow and the other was just like a baby, for she couldn't walk and she cried a lot. Servants simply assumed that it was Murtagh who came and did this to them, but Eragon knew that this wasn't like Murtagh (for they probably wouldn't be alive much less able to identify) and instead, it was probably Freyja, for she had displayed the ability to probe through people's minds and that she had scrambled their brains in defense.

Eragon also noted that news came at a surprisingly low pace, for usually Olivia had a keen ear on particular things and when she did hear it, she would have told them, but oddly enough, they had all heard it before her. One particular reason for the rather slow news was that all of the serving staff knew it was Franny and Phil who had betrayed their mistress, and so they were weary of almost anyone who was known to serve under Freyja. It seemed that by the mistake of two people, that everyone had to pay for it.

Then later that day, it was said that Phil was found, but his state was again questionable for he had a few broken fingers, a few cracked ribs and a broken nose and was placed in the dudgeon without treatment.

Once this was heard, everyone seemed happy that Phil had his just deserts, but it was quickly changed as another rumor passed that aimed for the entire serving staff of Freyja.

"They think we were all a part of it?" Gaynel gasped as everyone turned either white with fear or red with anger.

Eragon knew this was bound to happen and it was merely be a matter of time before it would happen.

"That is what they believe. And it is only Lady Freyja's word that will decide what will happen to us," Kurt said as the younger maids gossiped as Franny stood there, staring into space.

"Is there any information at where she might be?" Winomina asked as she wrung her hands together.

"Some believe that Lord Adohlfin is keeping her safe but others tend to veer towards… her being with her husband," Olivia replied as she scratched her cheek.

"That can't be true," Juliana quickly said, "for he doesn't care for her, right?"

* * *

.…. . . . . …..

It will probably take me either a short or a long time in order to update; I will be going to live in Saratoga, New York. Why might you ask? In my town in California, it is hard to get a job for there is oh-so-many people here and businesses around here can only offer as many jobs as they can allow. So Saratoga, a naturally bigger area of jobs and is a district in Albany (capital of New York), so I will be living with my sister, brother-in-law, and my nieces. Man so I feel like a NEET when I explain it D:


	25. There is no spoon or Don't mind him

Restrained. Freedom- yeah, that movie is a sheer slap on the face on 'what the hell is happening!' And thanks for waiting and giving me an inch larger head than my usual dosage of compliments. And yeah, throwing in whole 'oh Eragon is so nice/thoughtful/wada-wada' chapter because he is the main character damnit! And just to tell you, it was Empathetic.

I saw a French movie which is the adaption of the story named 'Bluebeard', which is one of my favorite stories: The movie is a story within a story where I enjoyed the visual beauty and the contrast between of the large, rather old hulking Bluebeard and his small, thin young wife. But the ending to me is a mind-fuck.

This chapter to me: I could do better, but I feel guilty in NOT posting a chapter. Ending= Bleh and their reaction was mediocre :I

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, for if I did there would be a mentioning of a Swallow, not African or European Swallow, but just a Swallow.

* * *

Chapter 23

Coming Back

Freyja couldn't help but feel a little shocked over the fact that he brought breakfast to her, or that he left his apartment without her even noticing.

He lead her to the a sitting room where there was a rather low coffee table with rather large bowl filled with food in the center of it while there was pillows on opposites ends of the small table. In the sides with the pillows there were small plates with rather worn looking mugs beside it with mismatching napkins op the opposite side of the place and silverware on them.

Once there, the two sat cross-legged with her eagerly placing the dog, both of which eagerly eying food in front of them and Murtagh gingerly sat down and before getting up with a sigh.

"I forgot something," he said as he walked out of the room for just a few moments before returning with a tea out that was _still steaming in his hands_.

Freyja jumped up, somewhat causing the dog to fall down with a surprised yelp and bumping her knee on the table; but she didn't seem to feel it for her full attention was on the tea pot.

"Y-your _hand_! Are you alright?" she quickly asked helplessly as she wrung her hands on her nightgown.

He simply gave her a flat stare before he quickly changed it to an amused look.

"I am perfectly fine," he said as he moved it to his other hand, not even wincing once as he took a step towards her, "Touch it".

She stared at the crude metal, feeling her heart skip a beat.

"No"

"You did not even lift your hand".

"I do not _want_ to," she urged, as she shook her head.

But he didn't seem to care for he took her hand with amazing speed and held it against the ugly kettle. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her head away as she expected blistering heat but instead she felt it's cool, bumpy surface.

"What?" she muttered as she opened her eyes and stared at her moved across it.

"Did you _really_ think I would hurt you?" he asked as he let go of her hand with the same speed as he took it.

She stared at it as her hand ran across it's surface, surprised at how cool it was despite the steam coming from the spout.

"Freyja," he said, getting her attention, "I would like to eat rather than stand here and hold this kettle".

"Oh…" she replied somewhat flustered as she turned to pick up Puck and went back to her seat, rubbing her dog's ear.

Murtagh sat at his seat too, placing the tea pot near the bowl and gestured for her to give him her mug, which she did.

She looked down to see that it was just water and noticed how he picked up a particular spoon with holes in it and stirred it into the cup. She noticed the same spoon and did the same, noting it had tea in it and then cautiously sipped it but somewhat yelped at how hot it was.

"I only cast a spell over the kettle, not the water itself," he said somewhat amused as Freyja nodded and blew at it.

"Of course," Freyja said with an embarrassed smile as she blew on her tea for a few times before drinking it again.

They ate their meal in silence compared to before when it was the sort of silence they both enjoyed. It seemed was more of an invited elephant in the room. And true to her feeling, he did speak once they finished.

"You have to go back to your ward," he finally said as they placed all their dirty dishes inside the bowl, "even if they traded you in, they need to know that you are alive and well".

"No, I do not want to," she replied, but quickly felt a little childish for saying it, but he didn't seem the least bit moved, "I… want to stay here".

He stared at her, his eyes examining her face before his mouth twitched as he seemed to be thinking at how to treat her.

"Do you want me to walk with you?" Murtagh asked as if he was talking to a child, and while it did unnerve her, she rather liked it.

Freyja paused, and looked down at the coffee table, feeling even more like a selfish, demanding child. She didn't want to go back, but if she had to, going back there by herself didn't seem to agree with her, either.

"A-are you able to do that?"

"I wouldn't have suggested it if I wasn't".

She tried to keep a straight face but a small smile slowly formed.

"_Please?_"

. . . . .

Nearly everyone stayed in the Blue room: Gaynel kept on yawning due to both lack of sleep and nervousness, Kurt had a permanent scowl upon his face, Phil had yet to show himself, Winomina stood rather close to Juliana who she herself was biting away at her nails, Olivia had been out since 8, and Franny looked almost dead as she kept herself in the Green room. During all of this, Eragon couldn't help but feel the anxiety in the room was very thick to the point if a person wished to slice it, they would need a sword.

He was pushed in with the rest, unable to see how Franny was holding up for Kurt would just shake his head and hover closer to the doorway; Eragon reflected that if before his training with Oromis, he would have been emotional and demand to see Franny. But now he was able to calmly sit by and keep tabs on listening to Franny as others fretted around him and so far from what he has heard, she was simply panicking.

As the hours slowly seeped by it wasn't until 10:30 was when Eragon heard feet racing to the room. He rose and waited, causing everyone to stare at him until two or so minutes passed before Olivia burst into the room.

"She's coming!" The older woman choked out as she let out a big gush of air.

"What?"

"L-lady Freyja is coming! Hurry! Hurry! I don't know how long! I just now c-caught wind of it minutes ago! Everyone-" Olivia managed to say before taking another gasp of air.

"Everyone to the front," Kurt ordered as he took over as he quickly hurried everyone , even Eragon, out of the room and then went to the Green room to hurried Franny out of the room, who weakly stumbled out and entered their makeshift line.

"B-but wait...!" Olivia said from behind everyone as she made her way while she somewhat gnawed her lips, "…The _S-Spawn_ is with her".

That was when everyone, even Kurt, grew one shade paler and Franny almost seemed as if she was bound to faint. Eragon then concentrated and heard Murtagh's usual footsteps beside Freyja's almost tip-toed walk; he noted that they were just seconds away from the door.

"_Surely_ that can't be-" Winomina was about say before she was cut off.

The door quickly opened and there the two walked in, but Eragon knew who they were all relieved to see: Freyja.

She looked rather well, even though the gown she wore was very large while her hair was a mass of curls pushed back, but it didn't hide the fact that it needed a good brushing. Freyja still had that innocent, child-like air as she held her dog closely to her but she seemed rather downhearted to be here, despite a few days ago she smiled and laughed at everyone's jokes and stories. Eragon was sure that everyone wanted to come and embrace her and practically beg for forgiveness but one thing stopped them from doing so.

They were reminded that Murtagh was still there for he moved his arm slightly, causing some of them to jump.

Since they were not used to his presence, just him being there almost put them into a silent frenzy in which they only wished this was just a dream or a nightmare. Eragon also noticed that it only seemed that Juliana, Gaynel, and Franny were the only ones who could actually have their heads up but their eyes averted compared to the more seasoned servants who held their heads down; he copied the same submissive stature the older servants as he felt his heart somewhat skip a beat.

However, Murtagh seemed used to this reaction and stood beside Freyja while he looked through them with his frigid gray eyes and a steel frown, almost causing a ripple through the line.

Freyja coughed, somewhat diverting their attention, as a somewhat small sheepish smile formed on her face (which surprised even Eragon) as she turned and gave a small curtsy and whispered 'thank you' and 'good bye' to Murtagh which he gave a simple nod and left the room.

* * *

Ah… Marie Antoinette… I am shocked that people do not know what it is about: it is kinda like a pop cultured history lesson of Marie Antoinette and her down fall. And if I had said it, I will say it again: I think that she is one of my favorite Historical Figures… oddly enough.

Also, there are a lot of stories making me say 'What the Fuck?'

I think I have two songs I would like to add to my Make-shift mixtape: they are Kerli's Song 'Fragile' and 'Nature Boy' however it depends on your taste for there is the original which the Jazzy classic by Nat King Cole and the remakes by The Peach Stealing Monkeys and Kerli herself makes a hauntingly beautiful remake.

However Kerli's 'Love is Dead' is on the drawing boards, for I think the vibe is somewhat heavier compared to Fragile.


	26. Don't loose your head!

Oh… um wow… well, I have no excuse

I revised quite a few chapters (I still have to revise a few others) but during that time my teeth were seriously hurting me, so I went to the Dentist, only to find out that my teeth are messed up: no surprise.

However, I noticed that almost every time I deal with a chapter or that I am revising it, there is something wrong with my health (fortunately, thanks to yahoo answers, I was able to treat my ears, a nap, and dinner), and mind you, this started happening ever since I have moved to New York. :l

But damnit, lets not forget the review

Restrained. Freedom- Fffffffffffffffffffffuuuuuuu- eh-hem! Well shit. I thought I have made it in but I didn't. So anyway, I was retarded enough not to even put it in there, but he explained to her that she had to return in order to prove that she was fine and was undeterred from the attack. And I didn't even put it there (I feel frankly moronic)  
And yes, the staff HAVE to control how they react to him: to them, he is the bogeyman and if you disrespect him you are as good as dead.  
No, he didn't, 'cause Galbatorix still has his spell over his mask and that it was at a random occurrence that Murtagh put two and two together. OMG BERAGON? Dear god man! XD that is funny!

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle for if I did, I would at least show an up side to the Empire, ya know?

* * *

**Chapter 24**

Making promises you can't keep

They were so eager to greet her with their smiles as they formed a crescent before her.

"It's good to see you are well, Lady Freyja," Gaynel said as the maids began ushering her to her bedroom.

"I am glad to see that some of the rumors were wrong," Winomina added as Freyja picked up Puck.

The young girl couldn't help but feel somewhat glad that they were so glad to see her while her mind kept on reminding her about why they were so eager to be around her.

The blonde noticed that Franny wasn't amongst those who were around her and looked over her shoulder.

She stopped, causing everyone else to follow suit; they watched as she turned to the wisp of a maid and stepped away as Freyja walked to Franny who quivered with each step Freyja made.

Instantly the maid fell to her feet and thrust herself upon the floor exposing her back and the palms of her hands to the gray eyed young girl.

"I know what I have done is downright cruel and unforgivable…," Franny said in a tiny voice as Puck lulled his tongue from out of his puny mouth, "I have stayed to beg for your forgiveness… "

The maid looked up, and while tears were welling up from her eyes, she also had a determination and guilt mixed in.

"I know that your customs are different than ours...but please, you can do whatever you like, but do not make me return to my home! I want to still help my family even if they are hundreds of miles away! Cut off my finger, my hand, or my foot: just please do not force me out of being your maid!"

All eyes lingered to Freyja who stared down at Franny.

In her heart, Freyja was angry with the other girl, and she wanted to do opposite of what Franny begged her not to do and make her blind, force her out of the city and make her walk her way to her home poor. It wasn't fair that she had to be beaten while both Franny and Phil left her to be eaten by the wolves.

But the gray eyed girl's mind was opposite of her heart: even if Franny did do such a thing, the maid looked like she couldn't sleep and that the weight of her world was riding on her shoulders.

Freyja did not know much of Franny's home life, but it seemed that her maid would do anything for them… even if it meant betraying her mistress.

Compassion and hatred dueled, and while each one had its own stand, Freyja knew that her decision would weigh on how others would perceive her as either a remorseful woman or a easily fooled young girl. And while her reputation was to be considered, so was Franny's life and the life of her family would weigh on her mind as well.

Slightly biting her lip, she finally made her decision.

"What you did was unforgivable," Freyja said, causing Franny to flinch, "But seeing you asking for my forgiveness rather than hiding away, I know that you have come to make amends… While I cannot forget what you have done, I can say that I won't hurt you in order to make myself feel better nor can I make you leave my service. However, I can ask Lord Adohlfin to serve under someone else instead".

As she spoke, it seemed that a weight was lifted from her maid's shoulders, whose guilt and determination filled tears changed into tears of gratitude.

"Lady Freyja," Olivia whispered into her mistress's ear, "Are you certain that you would want Franny to serve another lord or lady? For when she does, she would barely be able to return to Urû'baen..."

'_I am practically banishing her from her family_…'

"What will you do if you serve under another household?" Freyja asked, feeling as Franny's weights were forced upon her shoulders.

"I will try to redeem myself course," Franny replied, clearly planning as she went, "and even if I am paid in scrapes, I will send my family those scrapes, my lady".

But the maid bowed again.

"But all I ask is your forgiveness".

"That… is a lot to ask for," Freyja replied as her stomach began to slowly fold on itself, "I can only say so much. I do forgive you but not fully…"

"But you have forgiven me no less," Franny replied as she got on her knees and crossed herself, "That itself is worth something milady".

Freyja could help but feel now terrible for what she had said, and she was going to quickly take back what she had said but a knocking was heard.

The double doors opened before Kurt or Bergan could answer it, and four soldiers bearing Feinster's insignia came in. Everyone fanned away from them as the captain stepped forward in a cool manner.

"We are here to arrest the maid known as Franny who serves under you, Milady, for suspicion of being an accomplice in the plot to harm you," The captain of the group replied, causing everyone to freeze.

"W-who ordered this arrest?" Freyja managed to ask as Puck began to yap at the men, and when he refused to stop, she cupped her hand around his tiny snout.

"By Lord Galbatorix and by Lord Adohlfin, Milady," the Captain replied as two of the guards walked over and seized Franny by her arms.

"S-surely I can talk with Lord Adohlfin or perhaps... Is Galbatorix here?"

The man shifted his weight to his other foot and licked his lips; her servants apparently knew this sign and it seemed like they were holding their breathes.

"He is… in a way and he has also asked for your presence, milady".

Her heart practically at her throat.

'_There is still hope for her…!_'Freyja thought as she turned sharply to the older maid.

"Take me to him, please," she said in a soft voice as she forgot her attire and handed Puck to the older woman, "I will tell him that I pardoned Franny"

The older woman didn't seem to agree with this, even if she didn't say it: her expression betrayed her.

"Please, Olivia, I need to talk with him," Freyja insisted as she put on her hands together, "I am sure that if I convince Lord Galbatorix of Franny's guilt, he would give her a lesser punishment… I am sure he would understand".

The older woman stared at her and then weakly smiled.

"All I can say is that I hope the best of luck for you… and for Franny. Take Bergan with you to escort you: we needn't want anyone assume we all are scared to be accused".

Freyja nodded and motioned for Bergan to follow; when they left her apartment and then her ward, feeling as if she had blamed Franny for this and was to see her executed.

The captain led the way while Bergan walked faithfully by his young mistress's side as the captain's men surrounded Franny as if she had the power to kill someone with her bare hands.

They walked through the main halls of the castle, passing by Courtiers who watched the small group pass by with lifted brows and whispered amongst themselves.

Freyja tried her best to not look back to her maid for she greatly feared for Franny; thoughts of doubt kept on rearing their ugly heads in her mind, making her believe that she would do nothing for Franny's defense or that her maid was doomed.

When the group reached a hallway that was filled with portraits of landscapes, they stopped in front of two large double doors that reached towards the ceiling. Freyja watched as her maid was being escorted away and felt her stomach twist.

Their eyes made contact, and despite being lead away by four men, Franny simply bowed her head and turned away as she was being led away.

The captain, paying no mind to his men leaving, knocked on the door and paused.

"Let her in," a silky smooth voice came from the other side of the door, and instantly Freyja knew it was Galbatorix; the Captain was about to open his mouth, pointing to Bergan but the king cut him off, "And her servant too".

The captain pushed opened the door with ease and held it for Freyja who gave a slight bow of her head and hurried into the room.

It was study that had a full wall of windows that allowed the sun to go into the large room with the other wall covered with bookcases. In the center were love seats and such with stands beside them and foot rests as well as the occasional liquored table on a drab color scheme of deep tans and pale grays.

Standing beside the window with a pan of water that was set in front of a bull body mirror that was pointing down; the reflection of the sun bounced from the pan and into the mirror with the Galbatorix looking down the window.

"Hello Freyja," he said in a warm tone as she walked toward him and gave him a low bow and held it, "You may rise".

"Lord Galbatorix… It is good to see you again," she said with a smile on her face as she walked over to him and stopped.

She looked down and frowned at how he did not cast a shadow in the bright light of the sun; he noticed that she was looking down and laughed.

"I perfected this particular spell over the years which allows me to project from a medium such as water onto a reflective surface, "he told her, pointing to the pan and then the mirror, "And then it is bounced back to make this image: a perfect parlor trick for the occasional party".

Freyja stared at it with wonder before Galbatorix stood in front of her, blocking her view.

"I have heard you were attacked however I am glad to see you are in of health".

"Of course… If it wasn't for Murtagh, I wouldn't be able to move," Freyja said with a small smile, but her stomach was still doing flips as Franny's safety filled her mind.

Galbatorix lifted a brow as he looked at her from foot to toe.

"Murtagh, you say?"

"Yes… I was somehow able to fend them off… and when I was running away, I bumped into Murtagh who healed me," Freyja explained before stopping and looking at her attire and blushed, "I am sorry for my appearance, Milord, I hurried to you once I heard you wanted to speak with me".

"No, it is perfectly fine, my dear, though I cannot go back in time to correct this wrong… I can do you justice," He said as he motioned her to the window that viewed a rather plain looking court yard.

Freyja frowned at what he said and looked down, feeling her body freeze and the ring on her finger to burn.

The courtyard, despite its lush greenery all around it, was spoiled.

Franny was there, crying into her hands as the bodies of the man and woman who attacked Freyja lay on the ground without their heads which were in a wicker basket beside the executioner. Phil was on his knees, looking ahead or at something (she couldn't much from above) with the execution beside him with an axe.

The hooded man looked up to the window and the king motioned with his hand; the man nodded lifted the axe over his head and allowed it to fall down on Phil's neck, cutting through him as if he was made of soft grease.

The gray eyed girl clamped her hand onto her mouth as she felt as if her breakfast was coming back into her throat as she watched his body quiver.

"M-milord?" she choked as she looked up to him, "W-w-what is going on?"

"Retribution, Freyja," he replied knowingly as his eyes fell upon Franny, who was now struggling to stand.

"M-m-my lord… that girl, my maid, F-Franny, she knows of her guilt," she said as she tried to remain calm, the ring now seething, "she asked for my forgiveness and I forgave her it, I beg you to stop this".

But the older man shook his head as if Freyja did a small mistake.

"You have to keep in mind that anyone will say anything to get their way and Freyja, I am worried that this maid has made you believe that what she did was by accident… did you take her for her word or did you read her mind?" Galbatorix asked as if they were talking about the weather.

Freyja looked down and grew pale as Franny was forced down onto her knees and her head was pushed down, exposing her neck.

The gray eyed girl turned and held her hands to her ears, even though they were not in range to hear the blade or the head, Freyja forced her hands closer to her ears and squeezing her mouth into a grim frown.

A thimble of herself was glad that this was happening, and for that Freyja hated herself even more as much as the empty promise she made with Olivia.

"What's the matter?" Galbatorix questioned in a somewhat chiding tone through her fingers, "Freyja, do you not want to watch the person who betrayed you executed?"

She shook her head childishly as tears began to sluggishly go down her cheeks.

"Freyja, Fre_yja_, _Freyja_," The older man sighed as he came closer to her, "That woman is getting just what she deserves"

Freyja couldn't hear anymore as she felt her breath speed up and her vision darkened as she quickly fell into numbing darkness.

* * *

Gee… _way to go_ Galbatorix.

Also, do not ask _HOW_ the scry thing worked: it's magic.

I am not one for dedications, but this goes out to my teeth, the Manhunter soundtrack, Florence Welch of Florence and the Machine's crazy dance moves, and Stoffer's Italiano Lasagna.

Dyamn this chapter was long


	27. Good thing he's not wearing white

Yeaaah… Cough-cough, work. That, a few minor bumps in life, and I have been watching the abridged series and summaries for Game of Thrones... BOROMIR…! Or 006 (a.k.a Janus), Odysseus, a knight investigating a village not harmed by the plague, Zeus, or Christian Bale's (dead) partner in a dystopian society that is loosely based on Fahrenheit 451.

Hey look: new people! Holla!

So here we go:

Caironater- Oh, here you go! And thank you, I am flattered!

Unique Fantasiser- They sound good and Eragon _will_ be getting his mask off and the two reuniting will happen eventually but the hand thing: had to happen. I wanted to turn have it so that Eragon lost something during all of this 'cause we all know he will have his will during all of this. I can wait for those cookies, tee-hee

EminemBitches- Yeah, I tend to have a habit for that (but it'll change) and yeah, I could (and will try to) do a little more work with Murtagh chapters. But I am glad that you like the story and that you are interested in more chapters.

And last but certainly not least Restrained. Freedom- My god… Have Toads become Frogs! Or has Frogs become Toads? Yeah, Franny will be learning her lesson even though she is dead; man good thing Galbatorix is not a teacher or even a principal.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, for if I did, one does not simply walk into Urû'baen...!

* * *

Chapter 25

Calling the kettle black

He caught her, but still kept his eyes on Galbatorix.

"Why hello, Shadeslayer," the Mad King hummed as he went back to the window and motioned before turning back to Eragon, "You are certainly a sight for sore eyes!"

His laughter filled the room.

"Why did you… let her watch it?" Eragon managed to say, slightly licking his lips, "She shouldn't have-"

"Were you listening to what I told her? Justice has been done, and she needed to see it for her herself: don't tell me you also believed that maid's tale too," the older man said before stepping closer to the one hand man and lifted a brow, "You are so young, too bright-eyed".

"And you are so greedy and bloodthirsty," Eragon snapped back as he held the unconscious Freyja closer to him, "You didn't both to even look into Franny's mind yourself… you simply ordered for her execution…!"

"Oh-ho? Are you suggesting that I am not fit to judge others only because you assume I am bloodthirsty?"

Eragon gritted his teeth, annoyed at how Galbatorix made it seem as if this was one big joke.

"Come now, loose that face, oh wait, you can't!" The mad King cackled but then recovered, "But all joking aside, what makes me any crueler than your leader? What was her name again? Natalie? Nocona…?"

"Nasuada!"

"Ah yes, her… didn't she change policies on traitors?" The Mad king questioned, as he began to circle Eragon, "Last time, it was that they were to be marooned with only a day's worth of food and water while having to try and nurse a deep cut that is from their left shoulder to their right hip, hm?"

Eragon grimaced, from the mask and from Nasuada's old rule.

"Oh? So she did have that rule? What a frigid, hardhearted woman! And people believed that I was a ruthless ruler!"

The old man went into a fit of laughs but smoothly recovered as he seemed to be waiting for Eragon's response.

"But she will die eventually… while you will be still alive until your downfall," the brown eyed young man hissed before beginning to choke.

"Now, now, Shadeslayer, don't spit on your mistress! Goodness knows she has enough to worry about as it is".

Painfully recovering, Eragon glared at the older man with even more rage filled in his eyes.

"If my memory serves me correctly, this time her policy on traitors is that they are to have their foot cut off as well as to be given 20 lashes," he said as he rubbed his chin, "Now I on the other hand am very lenient! Death is quick, and somewhat easy to clean up, and I do not bend to the will of others, no matter rank or species".

"Nasuada only does that to-"

"How about your cousin Roran? I heard years back that he slaughtered an entire battalion of my men on his own due to the fact that the man he was taking orders from was… how shall I say: a lousy commander".

Eragon couldn't hide his fear in Galbatorix knowing of his cousin.

"He has…nothing to do with…this!"

"He does in fact, for he was given he was given not 10, not 30 but 50 lashes! And who ordered that?"

The mad king paused dramatically.

"Why, your leader of course!"

"What… what he did is what he wanted to… do…,"Eragon replied as he felt his emotion tear up inside of him, "It… is simply his business alone"

Galbatorix laughed and ruffled the younger man's hair.

"Trying to act tough? I have heard Roran has trouble lifting heavy objects these days; granted he does a splendid job hiding it but he does waver," Galbatorix's chiding tone wormed it's way through Eragon's mind, "Granted, if it were me, I would have congratulate Roran rather than force him into a mission right after he was whipped! I mean, doesn't she have other men and women waiting to be ordered?"

Eragon bowed his head and ignored the Mad Man, but somehow, his voice oozed through his defense as the strap in his throat begins to choke him.

"There are no pure ones in this war, Eragon, just Hypocrites. And Nasuada is the Empress if I am the King. If she is to be for the people, then why is she killing them off? What good has she done other than cause misery? And the Elves? They could care less for human life: didn't they destroy a city because they were cutting down trees? Just before the first blizzard that was if I so recall," Came his happy voice, "And what have I done other than be a _cruel king_: I made roads, created jobs, lowered poverty, and have successfully allowed people to live their lives untouched by war… compared to forcing people into the Varden".

"And the…riders? The dragons…you slaughtered?"

Galbatorix rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"_This_ _again_? When one needs a new beginning, or in our case, a new era, one must take care of the corrupted ones. Now don't look at me like I am some mad man: you too were becoming the elves slave: you do as they say and accepted their teachings which they forced onto you. Now, I can understand where you are coming from, for I too was a poor boy, like you, who was so eager to please them because they made me feel as if I did something special and I believed that they cared," the mad one said as his eyes became turbulent, "But as I tried to replace that hole, that _silence_, they turned their backs upon me like I was trash".

"You… could have lived out your life but instead, you turned that…misery into anger," Eragon croaked, finding courage, "You're using… the past as an excuse to rule over people: any ruler can give their people good things… but they die, even if they had yet to full-fill their fantasy as a perfect kingdom while your reign is long past due…! Even if your dragon died doesn't give you the right to-!"

Eragon gasped as he felt a hand grab his throat and nails imbed into his skin; the young one armed man half expected it to be a spell but to his horror, Freyja, or what was Freyja, had her hand around his throat and was tightening her grip.

The image of Galbatorix had disappeared and now the older man was in this girl's body.

'_He's possessing her…?_'

Her soft gray eyes were no longer innocent, but instead, they were the color of dirty snow with flakes of red in it.

"_Do not lecture me on who has the right to do what and using the past as an excuse_," came a throaty, unearthly growl from the possessed girl, "You will never understand what it means to truly lose your dragon, for if you did, then you wouldn't be lecturing me, boy. I have come full circle for what I have done… but t is only you, the Varden and the elves stay in the past"

With the strap of the mask and Freyja's unnatural strength, Eragon only managed a low gasp.

"Think it this way: what would have happened if they had given me a dragon? " The possessed girl asked cocking her head to the side, "I will never replace her… but I wanted to get rid of it…"

The girl's features broke slightly, and Eragon saw for but a split second was a broken person, someone who had lost everything despite having all the things anyone could want; her childish looks slackened and wrinkles and lines covered her face . But that look disappeared with an ugly sneer.

"Oh… but have you heard, Shadeslayer, that your dragon will be here?"

"W-w…What?" He managed to say as her nails were making half crescents into his neck.

"Oh, trust me, I was also surprised that she was coming this way, but too bad you won't be there. Knowing Saphira, I could only assume that once she finds that you are not there, I guess she will have quite the tantrum," The man king said with Freyja's voice, "Now tell me, who has the right to do whatever they want now, young man? She has killed so many women, children, and the elderly while I had only killed those who could put up a fight against me. Now, who is right?"

Eragon said nothing, which wasn't what Galbatorix wanted, so the possessed girl's grip tightened.

"Who is right, Eragon?"

The younger man shivered in disgust and anger.

"Y-you are…," he said as the grip again tightened, "Y-y… you are… _my lord_".

* * *

I should start editing my chapters again

I did a shout out :D (Can you guess where?)

And for your extended forecast: Winter is _STILL_ coming


	28. Hold the cream please!

Check out my homepage link and listen to my playlists: It has songs ranging from t.A.T.u to Rammstein (yes, you are reading it correctly). It's still a work in progress, I think it's kinda little moody, but it is something that isn't a trailer. The first song is Florence + the Machine's 'Rabbit Heart' and the last song is Willie Nelson's cover of Coldplay's 'The Scientist' (I am not much of a country person, but I like the nostalgic, soulful tone to it… that and Chipotle's commercial anyone? Tee-hee)

Halloween is coming up! So I will try and do a Halloween special (just like what I did for Valentines Day)

Restrained Freedom-_ My plan is working_- Whoops, forget what I was about to say, tee-hee. When Galbatorix is not being an evil king, killing people, or being a match maker, one of his many hobbies is to try and 'corrupt' people's minds for shits and giggles. And I am rather surprised about how you described my story;I just want to show that there is no definite side to support. However, I do try at producing disturbing images, but I guess I have to try harder! However, Equilibrium is a great movie though.

Unique Fantasiser- Naaah, don't worry, I won't make him evil, but a little more aware of how imperfect the Varden is (I moderately annoyed at how people down play the Empire). But no: I have already pulled the Star Wars gag with his hand, I am not going to do it again. However, things'll get better in the end, don't worry.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, for if I did, the answer to all of life would be 42

* * *

Chapter 26  
Meeting by Coincidence or Fate

Thorn came back earlier than expected, claiming that he didn't want to run into Saphira by himself; now he was in the roost resting but not entirely relaxed.

_Murtagh, why are you in Feinster in this storm?_

'_I am trying to get peace of mind_'

_By walking through people? If you wanted that, then you should have gone to the plains or we could have flown above this mess!_

Granted, despite how easily it seemed for Murtagh to explain to his dragon that his very life was on the line, he couldn't bring himself to tell it to Thorn.

The storm was slowly dying down, but it was simply the calm before the grand finale. There was the occasional gust of wind would hit him and would cause him to stand his ground, but it didn't seem to faze him at all.

The few people around him, despite fearing him and hating him, did not know that he was amongst their midst: to them, he was just an empire soldier.

The red dragon rider had learned that people had to put a face to the name and being how the people of the city had never seen him up close, they didn't know he was amongst them. It was the occasional Empire soldier who spotted him and either went into full attention or tried their best at trying to ignore him, despite how miserable they were.

So here he was, enjoying the icy chill of the rain and wind as others quickly trekked through the storm until someone decided to ruin it.

"Hey, boy".

Murtagh paused; did someone just call him '_boy_'?

_Uh-oh_

He turned to see a door cracked open with a small woman poking her nose through it.

"What?"

"I said 'Hey boy', as in you, boy," she said casually as he saw her eyes moderately spark, "Care to come in? You might catch a _death_ of _cold_!"

The red dragon rider narrowed his eyes while the short woman opened the door slightly, lifting her brows.

"We can stand here all day, and I would be the one winning this one".

"Fine… thank you," the gray eyed man said as he entered, noting that this was a one roomed apartment, like the one above it.

Rugs were laid on the floor, each one having different designs and colors that were literally overlapping each other while a rather lively fire was going to the left of him. To his right were shelves cluttered together with lanterns and herbs hanging above that would occasionally sway whenever someone above them moved. In the center of the room were two tarnished couches and a rather new easy chair with a footrest before it were all angled towards the fire.

In the couch farthest was a rather thin person sleeping with their back towards them and a rather large cat at the top of the couch that seemed to observe the small, curly haired woman and the dragon rider.

Murtagh stepped aside as she closed and locked the door and watched as she walked over to the table that had a rather strange rather thin, small pot. Beside it was a small bowl with a long teaspoon in it and a tiny covered jar while two cups were in front of the pot.

Granted, he felt unsettled that the door was locked behind him and that whatever she had was bound to have poison in it, but he had to be patient.

"Sit down, sit down," she said as poured a fine powder into the small yet rather tall pot and took a cup and dipped it into a pail below the table and poured what appeared to be water into the pot, "I was just brewing some coffee!"

He frowned at the word; it was something that was found by caravans but it wasn't entirely popular until the desert city had been found.

But Murtagh humored the corkscrew haired woman and sat down at the closet to the door that faced the sleeping person. Half of him wanted to see into this persons or even this short woman's mind, but he knew better than to assume he could do that.

"People tend to wander n wherever I go, but you're a part of the few exception," the woman said before she put the pot onto a stand over a candle and slowly stirred it.

"Should I be honored?"

"Feel however you like," she said shrugging and muttering something to the pot as she stirred before taking out the spoon and taking it over the pot.

She placed the spoon down and used her dress to take it by the handle and poured the coffee into two cups before placing the pot down and blowing out the candle.

_Murtagh, be wary! If she is a magic user, you should put on a guard spell!_

'You shouldn't be worried about me,' Murtagh responded as he kept watch of the small woman.

"Would you like sugar in your coffee?"

"Two spoons please".

She nodded and opened the small jar and put in just that, but put three spoonfuls of sugar in her own. She picked up the two cups and walked over to the easy chair and gave him his cup and sat down comfortably onto the chair.

"Ah, that's better!" She exclaimed smiling as if she put her feet onto the footrest and rested her elbows onto the arms of the chair, "One of the few good things these days, huh Murtagh?"

Inwardly, he quickly thought of different ways to kill this woman, but he kept his composure.

"It is," he said leaning into the couch, "But since you know my name, I think it is fair that I should know yours".

"Robin"

"Did you think it over or was it the first name to come into mind?"

"Jill, and by my nose, it is my name!"

"You're nose must be fake too".

"Saucy boy, aren't you?"

"Care to stop this chase?"

"Oh, but you have to try hard to get this goose!"

"What?" the red dragon haired asked, stunned by her response.

_I think she might be referring to a 'wild goose chase'. _

"Ask really nice and maybe I will be courteous," the woman replied as she sipped her coffee.

He gave her a flat stare but shrugged.

"May I please know your name?"

"Ah, much better," she said, flashing him her teeth, "my name is Angela the herbalist and Angela the witch".

"Which are you then?" Murtagh asked, humoring her once more as he tried his best to get drink the bittersweet drink.

"A little of both from time to time; it depends on my mood".

"You wouldn't be the same Angela who is in league with the Varden?"

"Was".

"Care to elaborate?" Murtagh asked now knowing a third of what he was up against.

"I am no puny magician Du Vrangr Gata: I can go whenever I want and I did just that. The Varden has long since given me a funny taste in my mouth. I have seen war and in my youth have seen enough to cause a Kull to be a monk".

"Then why aren't you a nun?"

"Silly fool, I am not an Urgal! And what religion would I follow anyways?" Angela declared sticking her chin to him before continuing, "Once you took Eragon, things got too out of place! They were really desperate: Trianna, you know her as the head magician of the Du Vrangr Gata, right? If you didn't you know now, well she got it into her hot aired head that she could take me so I would be a part of her mindless drones! The nerve of that woman!"

The herbalist huffed and took a small sip.

"After that little curb stomping battle, Nasuada asked, and when I say ask I knew ordered, me to head of her little group while Trianna got her act together. Needless to say, I kindly turned it down and left with a little note and a goodbye, and since then I decided to go on vacation".

"Really? Then what's stoppinbg you from killing me?" Murtagh asked in an unconvinced tone, not even hiding his disbelief.

_Sometimes the truth sounds far-fetched_

'_How she explains it is as far-fetched as it gets_'.

"You need to loosen up, you know? A harp isn't a harp when it is unturned. Or a man without water and bread surely cannot make it through the winter's eve feast!" she said rather seriously before shrugging, "It's not my place to kill you, and if I did, I am sure some people wouldn't forgive me.

'_Now she lost me_'

_I can't see why_,_ she is speaking rather bluntly._

'_Don't tell me_-'

"If you are on vacation, why are you here?" The dragon rider asked as he finished off the coffee, inwardly cringing.

The cat's ear twitched as Angela sobered.

"You know Saphira is coming here, don't you? Granted, Dragons can be smart but they can also be big babies! They're just like humans but with scales… and talons, and wings… and perhaps their size, but going down to the nitty-gritty, they suffer our faults. I am sure you yourself know why she's having a hissy fit?"

"Even if Eragon is not with her, I do not really know why she is killing everyone".

"Bears".

"What about them?"

"When you threaten their cubs, _they will attack you_, regardless if they know you are stronger than they are or not. As for why I am here, I tend to have a knack for being around when something good is happening or bound to happen".

"So will that mean you will be here when Saphira comes?"

"Will you?"

He paused, looking to the fire and back to the witch.

"I can't really blame you, though," Angela chirped, waving her hand to shoo away any negative feeling, "Your dragon had been the whipping boy for just about everything, just like his rider, however, I must warn you: you are on a fine line and you know it and you should be wary".

_What does she mean by that?_

"Why should it matter to you? After your little _vacation_, I am sure you will be back fighting to the Varden".

"Just because I fought for them doesn't mean I am a part of it. I will pop once in a while to give them my two coins and heal while sell herbs on the side, but I know where I stand. I have seen leaders like Nasuada who tried their best at bending their backs to please everyone: sometimes they break, other times they change. Nasuada changed and no longer needs my service, even if she wants it".

"Half the things you've been saying has either made sense or you've decided to just say it. Say it as it is".

The corkscrew haired woman laughed as the cat yawned but watched the dragon rider with its electric blue eyes.

"You won't have to worry about fighting me on the battlefield," the witch replied as she finished her coffee, "Since you are here, would you like your fortune to be casted?"

_Fortune casted?_

'_She means to read my fortune_'

_What for?_

'_She's being nosy_'

"What for? If I did know it, I would be too conscience of my actions: what happens to me now happens," Murtagh said as he shrugged and got up, walking toward the table, "But thank you for the coffee".

"Of course… though tell me, how is your wife doing?"

Murtagh stopped just at the easy chair and looked down at the tiny woman.

"What?"

"Gossip here runs a muck on market days, even when the weather is terrible. It's said that three people who were a part of a renegade group who were in support of the Varden were able to get into the castle with the help of a courtier. Though what happened to the child varies, so I wanted to find out through the birds mouth on whether or not if she was dead or not".

Recovering from his small shock, he walked over to the table and placed the cup onto it before walking to the door, looking at the lock before turning to Angela.

"Why should her well-being matter to you? She should be nothing of interest to you, witch".

"So you say. Even the smallest thing like an ant can turn out to be something of importance… So will you tell me or will I have to see for myself?"

Murtagh wanted to scoff and say 'good luck' but by the determination in her eyes, she was quite serious.

"She's doing better," he replied before turning to leave.

* * *

Here are a few things you might be thinking: Why are Solembum's eyes blue?

It was noted that his eyes tend to change each book: When he was first introduced, he had red eyes, then in Eldest they were gold and in Brisingr they were green. So I went with blue, meh.

That thin person sleeping was Elva. Why is she asleep and why didn't Solembum speak with Murtagh? Beats me; I guess Solembum just wanted to watch him while Elva was tired. You'll see quite a lot of Elva in later chapters.

The pot Angela was used to make Turkish coffee (the name differs) is known as a cezve. I feel really bad for writing it in, explaining it, and not having tried it myself

Why does Murtagh not like being called boy?: Somewhat of a Freudian excuse: Papa Morzan never refereed to him as his name, just boy and sometimes 'it' (might be shown in possible future chapters)

And will Freyja be important or does their unborn child have a great destiny in store for him? We'll have to wait and see


	29. Would you like cheese with that whine?

I was going to make this a Freyja chapter but went with Eragon, meh.

So anyway, it's been a while since I have mentioned a movie… and all I can say is 'Real Steel'. The storyline is simple, some of the music choices were good (other choice music made you think 'seriously? This is cheesy!'), the sudden urge to see someone to run up stairs and pump their fists in the air as they looked down those said stairs, and hella cool robots. Oh my god, the graphics are damn good!

How Noisy-Boy activated sent shivers down my spine!

Restrained. Freedom- You made my day; your reaction made me laugh my butt off. But then again, I wrote that chapter when my mind on a 'crazy' day.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, but I am totally fan-girling right now: _GALBATORIX_…! *Insert insane amount of joy here* (he's such a gentleman, too! tee-hee)I also bet NasuadaxMurtagh shippers are having a field day tee-hee (Mind you, I am at page 569)

* * *

Chapter 27

Accepting and fears

Despite the brief moment of sunlight they had earlier that day, it was apparent to Eragon the serving staff took that as a sign of good luck, but instead, they received an unconscious Freyja.

When Freyja woke up, she was a babbling mess of tears and words.

She kept repeating again and again, "it's my fault" over and over again; pulling her hair and rubbing her eyes despite how her maids were trying to cheer her up.

"No it's not," whispered Olivia as she gently rubbed the girls back, "'she made her choice, you tried and she was given her just desserts".

The blonde shook her head viciously, not even listening to the older woman.

"N-no! I-I could have!" Freyja sobbed, too much like a child as Puck anxiously licked at her ankles, "I…I was there! I c-could have stopped it, b-but I… I didn't!"

"Milady-," Olivia almost snapped before sighing; turning to Eragon she averted her eyes and shook her head. She looked back to him and said in a low voice, "Can you watch her? I will get some tea and biscuits, hopefully that'll cheer her up. If that doesn't, I fear-"

"It is perfectly fine," he replied, waving off her fear, knowing full well how uncomfortable she and the others were feeling, "I am sure that will cheer her up".

The maids and Kurt, no matter how seasoned he was, seemed unsettled by how drastic her behavior had turned.

The dragon rider noted that during the few days she was there, she was very happy yet somewhat shy, but seeing her cry had put them in an uneasy stupor.

The maid turned to Freyja slightly bowing as well as gently touching the younger girl's hands.

"I will be back with tea and sweets… would you like that?" she cooed gently.

Freyja said nothing as fresh tears fell down her red cheeks; Olivia took that as a sign and left rather quickly.

As the maid left the room, all that was heard was Freyja's hiccuped sobs and Puck's shallow breathing.

As the minutes slowly laced together, it seemed like an hour before Freyja said something.

"Bergan… Isn't it…? H… H-h…How d-did you l-loose y-your arm?"

"I beg your pardon Ma'am?" he croaked inclining his head to her.

"How… How did you lose your a-arm?" she asked in a groggy voice, her reddish eyes lingering to the stump where his hand used to be.

"I..," He paused, wondering how would he tell her that her husband was the one who cut his hand off, "I lost it in battle".

She averted her eyes and then looked to him, and he noticed the tears were slowly going away.

"In battle y-you say...? Do… Do they haunt you…? The men you've killed?" she asked in such a childish voice while she picked up Puck.

He watched as she held Puck close to her as her gray eyes became clear.

Instantly he remembered this conversation he had with his cousin before they saved Katrina from the Ra'zac. His cousin asked him the same thing and while it was hard to explain, he felt he and Roran had something to relate to.

But with Freyja, it seemed like it was guilt, as if she purposely killed Franny

"Sometimes".

"W-will Franny come back to h-haunt me?" she asked in a low whisper, allowing her small dog to lick her chin.

Eragon wanted to tell her 'no' as well as dismissing the entire thing but that wasn't him.

The young girl was so certain that she would help the doomed maid that she promised the other girl, despite her naivety. And granted, he hated to even admit this but Galbatorix was right: the girl could have been lying and if anyone was in her spot, they would have said the same thing.

But the determination in Franny's eyes was either a good bluff or an honest answer.

"Maybe…," he croaked as he studied the blonde, seeing how a slight weight on her shoulders were lifted, "But just because… you promised to save her didn't mean you were lying. You tried… but the king wouldn't hear you through…"

She looked down, almost pondering his words as the small down took the time to lick her cheeks.

"But Olivia is right," Eragon pushed on, feeling his mouth become slack, "You did what you had to do, my lady, and even if it was not much, you tried. But she is dead, there is nothing she can do other than stay in your mind: she cannot hurt you and you cannot help her: she dug her own grave".

"B-but…," Freyja muttered, stopping herself as a stray tear escaped, "but what of her f-family?"

He slightly sucked his breath in, which the young girl took that as an answer.

"I… I didn't…. If I… I h-hadn't decide to-"

"What was done to you shouldn't have happened… It is not your fault".

"But…"

Freyja tilted her head at what he said, looking to the left and then right before looking at him.

"I…," she paused again before a small smile spread across her face, "Y…Your right… It isn't my fault… But I won't let anyone else s-suffer from my mistake…"

Her answer somewhat caught him off guard, and this time it was his turn to tilt his head.

"Milady?"

"Ah, Lady Freyja," Olivia said as entered the room with a tray; the woman seemed slightly relaxed how that Freyja had stopped crying but Eragon could see that she was frightened, "If you do not mind, milady, can you please excuse us? It will be for a mere few minutes or so".

Freyja nodded as the older woman placed the tray on a nightstand before putting Puck down and moving the tea cup closer to her. Once Olivia had her back towards Freyja, she made a quick gesture for him to follow, which he did.

Once they were out of the room, the maid and Eragon rounded everyone into the sitting room.

"Oh gods…," Olivia managed to say as she let out a quiet dry sob, "Oh gods help us…"

"What is it this time?" Kurt asked as he quickly tensed as his jaw tightening.

Olivia said nothing as she put her face in her hands and slightly shook her head; Kurt gave her a few minutes to recover as Winomina slightly rubbed the other maid's back.

"It's terrible…!" she gasped as she looked between each person, "The dragon… that damned cursed…!"

The maid paused, gasping for air and to calm herself down.

"It'll be here in five days".

Everyone took a step back, even Eragon.

"W-… I…," Kurt was at a loss of words as the younger maids shuddered at the thought.

"That damned stupid creature… Why can't it die?" Winomina said with venomous words, "I barely remember the siege of the Varden as well as its dragon, but I do clearly recall the Empire returning…!"

Kurt as well as Olivia shuddered by what she said.

"The Black Death was a terrible sight that day," Kurt said, casting his eyes onto the ground, "But it will be considered a humane negotiation compared to what the blasted she-demon will do".

Eragon stood, listening to them insult Saphira: half of him raged at how they described her, wanting them to apologize for what they have said, and yet his other half understood their fear and their hate towards his dragon.

"S…Surely the Son of Morzan will-"

"We do not know," Olivia said, cutting Gaynel off, "Granted, killing the would-be rebels was one thing but it is being said that by their actions alone offended the king and that…"

The maids didn't seem to understand what she meant as she trailed off.

"That what…?" Juliana whispered as she held onto Gaynel's hand.

"He will pull his pet Dragon rider out as punishment".

They were all silent, Eragon couldn't help but feel the tension build before him, but he could have sworn he heard Puck's breathing at the door.

* * *

DAMNIT I NEED TO EDIT CHAPTERS...!

Fun Fact: this is the first time Eragon and Freyja have ever spoken to each other face-to-face!

Also, Ah-ha! Shruikan's nickname


	30. Man's best friend indeed

Despite me not having a not-so-good day yesterday, I am simply down but not out…!

I never understood why Murtagh wore the mask: did he want to wear it or did Galbatorix order him to? For I was getting the impression that Ol' Galby wanted to try some kinky/masochistic stuff out between Nasuada and Murtagh… which makes me think 'Could he be a shipper?'

Restrained. Freedom- Wait, did you put 'your' and 'better' in the same sentence… Are you implying that this is good? BLASPHEMY!But I guess since you're still reading this, I guess I am doing some right or so. Also sorry for referring to you as a woman; I'll be sure to edit it when I edit my chapters soon (whoopsie). Onto your question: The servants believe that Varden rebels pissed Galbatorix off, so he is taking Murtagh out of Feinster as punishment so when Saphira comes by, the city will get seriously trashed.

I do not own the inheritance cycle, but right now, I am tempted get Skyrim: I played Oblivion and loved it. I have seen a review or two and they noted that despite having a few 'technical' difficulties, it is by far a very nice game.

* * *

Chapter 28

She knew eavesdropping wasn't proper, but she wanted to know why they were so worried.

Freyja didn't want to be caught red handed so she turned to Puck.

She put him down and entered his mind, as gently as she could and found him again, rather simple. She bent down and rubbed his ears, which she felt the feeling of pleasure throughout her mind; once she was done, she then wanted to try and see if she could use him, so she gave him an order.

'_Move to the door_'.

He did nothing but cocked his head.

Freyja frowned, seeing that using her voice did no good; she decided to try something else.

At first she tried to move him against his will, which frightened him, so she gave him a small 'push', as if he needed to go to the door, and this time he did what she wanted.

The blonde moved herself to the edge of the bed, and closed her eyes, putting some of her conciseness into the dog, she saw what he saw, yet she couldn't control his movements.

Freyja then tip-toed away from the bed, stumbling from time to time as she couldn't help but confuse her own vision and Pucks. But she eventually opened the door and again gave him a push to go where the servants were.

The gray eyed girl hurried (slightly face planting) into her bed and closed her eyes, seeing him trot to where the sitting room was, she heard alien noises.

At first, she was alarmed, but then she recognized it as them speaking and that Puck's ears didn't register it.

She moved slightly away, making sure both she and her dog's consciousness were not rubbing up against each other and soon she could understand them.

"-Black Death was a terrible sight that day," Freyja heard Kurt say in a low voice, "But it will be considered a humane negotiation to what the blasted she-demon will do"

Freyja inwardly frowned.

'_"Black Death"? "She-demon"? What are they talking about…?_'

"S…Surely the Son of Morzan will-"

"We do not know," Olivia said, cutting Gaynel off, "Granted, killing the would-be rebels was one thing but it is being said that by their actions alone offended the king and that…"

Olivia said nothing after this, which worried Freyja even further.

Whoever or whatever this was, it had scared everyone, and they needed Murtagh.

Was that the reason why he was here?

'Of course _But why would Galbatorix deny the people help?_' she thought, even more confused, '_It was only a handful of people, not the entire city! Surely… Surely this is just a rumor…_'

"That what?" Freyja had barely heard as she urged Puck to move close to the door.

"He will pull his pet Dragon rider out as punishment".

Freyja almost balked as she quickly took herself from her dog's mind and back into her own; rubbing her forehead she lightly chewed on her lower lip as anxiety filled her.

'_She-demon…? Do they speak of that dragon that Douglas had been up against?'_

Freyja shivered as she heard Puck return to her, his tongue lulling happily as he sat down and wagged his tail.

"Lord Galbatorix wouldn't dare allow his people to die needlessly… would he?"

There was a long pause before they began to move towards the door; Freyja quickly urged Puck back into the room as they opened the door and he just barely made it.

Freyja said nothing as she drank her tea and nibbled on her pastries as her servants around her did their work and smiled, but she knew some of those smiles were fake.

After she was done, she had a bath and once her bath was done, a servant from Lord Adohlfin appeared: a stubby man who looked like he had lived his life barely making it through the war.

"Lady Freyja," he said in a low voice, bowing to her as Olivia brushed her hair, "Lord Adohlfin had heard what had happened and wishes to apologize to you over a dinner party?"

"A… dinner party?"

"Lord Barst had arrived earlier this night and so Duke wishes to hold a formal party: at the party, he also wishes to give you a private apology as well".

The young girl frowned at what he said.

"What he means," the older woman said as she gently tugged at a knot, "is that Lord Adohlfin will apologize to you in front of the courtiers attending. Public apologies tend to involve commoners and such".

"Oh".

The young girl dipped her chin down as Olivia went onto another knot; she knew the duke was a kind man and that all of this happened without his knowing, but he shouldn't be the one to apologize. It should have been the people or caused it; but since they were gone…

"I'll go: tell Lord Adohlfin that I will be attending his party, but he needn't apologize to me," she finally said as the man gave a small nod.

"Very well," he replied, his tiny fingers went behind him before continuing "you shall be summoned at 6, Milady".

After he left, Winomina went into the closet while Juliana and Gaynel stood beside Olivia; granted, it was an hour and a half away, it didn't feel like it to Freyja.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, for you were out for a few hours…," Juliana said, somewhat frowned but recovered as the older maid motioned for her to come over and whispered something in her ear.

The younger nodded and hurried out.

"Well, you shouldn't have to worry, Milady," Olivia chirped as she rubbed her chin, "You will look as if it took hours for you to get ready".

. . .

Murtagh was returning from the stables until he bumped into the one man he who had now ruined his day: Barst.

The two had met when Murtagh was 13 and the other was 20 when the latter was in Urû'baen; it was a well known secret that Barst was the bastard son of Galbatorix and was trusted by him as well. It was apparent that the king had tried to make them good friends, but Murtagh didn't want to be associated with the man.

Like his father, Barst inherited his piercing black eyes, broad shoulders, and his sadistic personality and tastes.

But to Murtagh, it was just another Galbatorix.

_It seems you cannot run away from either one. _

"I've heard Galbatorix is pulling you out: worried that he might lose his precious dragon rider?"

"And you're here to take my place? Between you and me, Saphira's weak spot is her wings," Murtagh retorted, furrowing his brow at the other man, "I am sure you could do that all by yourself".

Barst laughed and roughly slapped the red dragon rider behind his back; Murtagh didn't react but instead was staring daggers at the other man.

"No, I am simply stopping by," The taller man said as Murtagh furrowed his brow, "My father wants me to go to Dauth to kill a few spies".

"Really? I thought you would be in Marna".

"That's child plays, my father wouldn't want me to waste my time," Barst arrogantly stated, "Besides, I find it funny that _you_ are here: tell me, do you know where the Shadeslayer is?"

The red dragon rider frowned; confused that Barst didn't know this.

"I don't know and if I did, why would I tell you?"

"I'm shocked! I thought you hated him," the taller man said as he gave a gruff laugh, "And all I wanted to do was break him myself".

_If he was in Urû'baen, he would have surely broken your brother… _

"You weren't able to do it at the time because you were off in the Beor Mountains, trying to hunt Dwarves," Murtagh said in a venomous voice, "and it looks like you won't be touch a hair on his head unless _your father_ decides to reveal where he is, which will hopefully be _never_".

"Touchy-touchy…," Barst chortled before looking to the window, "Well, unlike you, I have a party to attend to: I stopped by to see if _you're_ invited, that is unless the Duke is afraid that all of the eligible women would die if they spoke to you".

_He doesn't know about Freyja?_

'_I think it would be better for her not even know who he is much less be near him_'.

* * *

I smell drama

And why would Galbatorix allow a man a Eldunarí?

I fudged up on ages, ah-ha


	31. Oh, no he didn't!

I've noticed that those few who did slam Eragon (the book) on youtube are slammed themselves by fans. The only argument against the book was originality: Eragon is quite original compared to stories like Fire by Kristine Cashore. I personally feel that her heroines are copy-pasted.

'Nough of my ranting, I am re-watching Battle: Los Angeles (Or World Invasion: Battle Los Angeles for those outside of the US); I really like this movie for its action, moderate accuracy, Aaron Eckhart's chin (seriously: my eyes go to his chin whenever there is a close up of him ; It is that awesome), and Michelle Rodriguez not dying in this movie.

Rodriguez is a seemly down to earth and spunky actress but most of her characters have the worst case of death in some of her well known movies like the first Resident Evil, Halo (she voiced a Marine that was doomed to die the pelican crash-landed onto Halo) and Avatar, but I am not really sure if she died in Lost.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle for if I did- OH MY GOD! HUNGER GAMES TRAILER! *A*

* * *

Chapter 29  
A Noblewoman's Dignity

She felt like she was sticking out like a sore thumb: she wore an airy, deep sapphire dress with unbound sleeves with a black ribbon that served as a band that was placed underneath her upper chest while the other women wore bright colors such as yellow, red, and green. At the time, Winomina was in a well humored mood for she tied a matching ribbon around Puck's neck, who would try to bite it off whenever he could.

Granted, Freyja stayed in the outskirts of the party, watching the courtiers as they would sometimes glance her way and having the occasional try to probe her mind, but the blonde was pretty happy that she was able to keep them at bay.

Occasionally a servant with trays filled with many goodies passed by: herrings, quail, squid (the word was funny to say), shark, and other small delicacies which she shared happily with her pug.

Fifteen minutes into the party, the courtiers began to slowly split, slightly blocking her way until she see who entered.

Lord Adohlfin wore the traditional deep purples of the Royalty of Feinster while the woman beside him, a beautiful strawberry blonde with creamy skin and warm eyes, wore a short-sleeved gentle peach loosely pleated gown that slightly exposed her upper chest and allowed all the attention go to her stomach instead.

'_That must be Lady Catherine…_' Freyja thought as she sipped her wine and then noticed how the other woman's round belly.

While the couple rather happy together, there was a taller man beside them: his looming figure somewhat intimidated everyone around him as well as his sharp eyes and mocking smile.

"Thank you for attending this party," Lord Adohlfin said as the courtiers quieted down, "And I am glad to host a party for Lord Barst, despite his sudden visit".

Many politely clapped as the larger man nodded.

"I always knew you wouldn't mind it, and besides, I get better treatment here than my own manor".

Many laughed at what he said, but it seemed that Lord Adohlfin and Lady Catherine were doing it to appease him.

The three spoke to one another for another five minutes, with a few jokes and thanks as well as compliments to one another before the Duke and Duchess of Feinster politely excused themselves and walked towards Freyja's way.

The courtiers moved from the couple's way until they reached the blonde, and from there, the aristocrats surged back to where they were standing. Freyja quickly finished her drink and placed it on a drink tray that was conveniently passing her by.

" Lady Freyja is it?" Lady Catherine's soft voice asked, causing the blonde to slightly strain her ears.

"My Lord," Freyja politely curtsied to Lord Adohlfin and then to Lady Catherine with Puck in one arm, "My Lady".

And in turn they gave her a respectful bow back.

"What has happened to you was unforgivable, please do not be so quick to judge us all," The duke said as he bowed his head to her.

"It was shameful what my cousins had done onto you," Lady Catherine commented, but as Freyja looked at the woman, her warm eyes appeared to resemble burning wood, "I am so sorry for what my own kin have done to you".

"I thank you for your apologies, and I know that you were completely oblivious to the incident," the gray eyed girl said smiling.

'_I hope you didn't know about it_,' Freyja wanted to say as she couldn't help but feel Lady Catherine's gaze began to seethe her.

Lord Adohlfin seemed to have noticed his wife's looks towards the younger girl, for he gave a small cough and put a hand gently on her shoulder.

"I believe Angelica is talking to the lecher over there," he said, motioning to a rather well-rounded girl who was batting her eyes at a rather small, thin man, "I fear she will cause more trouble than she already is".

"Oh, why of course," Lady Catherine giggled as she seemed to have glided toward the two.

"I am sorry for my wife," the duke sighed as he turned back to the gray eyed girl, "She… is rather emotional right now and is taking things too personal, so if she says anything to you, take it as a grain of salt. But I must warn you that even if she is my wife, I cannot fully stop her from doing anything she puts her mind to as well as puts family before others".

"Does she think her cousins did not help out?"

"No, I-"

"Lord Adohlfin! We have a man who wants to hear how you broke that damn horse!" came a loud voice from across the room, causing the Duke and the young girl to look up.

"Forgive me yet again," Lord Adohlfin said with a nod of his head, "But shall we continue this conversation soon?"

"Of course," the young girl replied, smiling as the duke turned and went to the man who called to him.

Freyja frowned, wondering what he was about to say, and while he seemed rather serious about it, it seemed that it wasn't important at all.

She was still looking in the direction of where Lord Adohlfin went when she stepped into someone or something: it felt like she was bumping into a wall.

"Ah…! Sorry".

"Apology accepted, of course," Came a taunting voice from over her head.

Freyja looked up to see Lord Barst towering over her; his black eyes seemed like he was looking down upon a prey instead of a person.

"Ah… Lord Barst".

"And who might you be?"

"Freyja".

"Freyja?"

He paused, considering her name.

"Ah… well this is strange," he said as he cocked his head to the side, "I do not recall that name from anywhere… wait, don't tell me! You must be from the desert outpost".

"I am," the gray eyed girl replied politely as she averted her eyes and took a slight step back while Puck squirmed anxiously in her arms.

He saw this and reached over, and lifted her chin so that she was looking at him.

"Now, why are you here? I heard women from that outpost refuse to leave…"

"My husband, he-"

Something flashed in his eyes and Freyja felt a sluggish yet powerful probe touch her defenses, which she quickly retracted and avoided it.

"Your husband?"

"Yes… You… you might know him"

"Not telling me his name is not ringing any bells".

She paused, unsure what to tell him and how he would react to her telling him who her husband was: many people didn't seem to like her husband and if this man was to attack Murtagh, she knew he would was perfectly capable in defending himself against this brute, butshe didn't want to bring him in this mess.

But it appeared that Lord Barst took this as a sign that she was ashamed of her husband and moved his hand onto her cheek.

"I see… well, if your husband is truly that unworthy to mention, trust me, I have seen several women like you: married because my father wanted gain".

Freyja blinked.

"'Father'?"

"Yes, Lord Galbatorix is my father… well my biological father to be exact".

"Your mother, she-"

"A bored woman who decided to spend nights with the king while her husband, my foster father, Berengar, fought," Barst casually explained as if he was recalling the weather, "I have siblings but out of all of them, I am one of his favorite: he allows me to use a dragon stone in battle as well as allowed myself to go through the ranks with ease".

As he spoke of his achievement, he became close to her and moved his hand onto her shoulder and leaned over to her ear.

"Tell me, do you like new clothing? Pearls? Diamonds? Or to be maybe a good fuck?" he asked in a pleasantly coaxing tone, "you seem very attractive, especially those eyes of yours... Have you ever been to Urû'baen? It's a splendid place for a woman such as yourself: soft skin, clean smelling, and splendid figures. I can pull strings so that your husband, if he is of any worth, is promoted so that you will be able to live at my father's castle... I see that you seem shocked by this: it is a what your city refers to as a heaven, but I cannot say that I will be your only bed-mate"

Freyja began to feel herself burn: humiliation, disgust, and fear welded up inside of her as she felt many eyes upon them, one being Lady Catherine.

Out of all the stares, the current Duchess of Feinster's stare burned the most, making the blonde feel as if she was being seared alive.

And this man, who claimed to be Lord Galbatorix's son,was asking if her to be a common whore in order to live a lavished life.

"Lord Barst," Freyja managed to say, feeling the words cling to her throat, "I… I have to take my leave…"

"Of course," he said coolly, "It's a lot to take in, but remember: give me your answer by tomorrow afternoon, for that is when I leave".

Quickly Freyja stepped back and managed gave him a low curtsy (even if she didn't want to give him one) and quickly went into the large group of nobles who either paid no mind to her or followed her as she weaved through them.

Puck was softly nibbling and licking her hand as he tried to be put down, but Freyja held him close; she felt like she was back in the greenhouse again.

She was slowly beginning to lose her nerve until she heard Lord Adohlfin's laugh from the left of her, which she quickly rushed to that direction.

The blonde found the duke talking to what appeared to be his friends as Lady Catherine stood beside him with her hand on her stomach; when she looked to the younger girl's direction, her gaze was like a furious blaze. Lord Adohlfin glanced at his wife and then followed her gaze before quickly excusing himself from his friends.

"Lady Freyja? Is there-"

"I am sorry to be rude… but I have to take my leave… something sudden has happened and-"

"I understand. Thank you for accepting my apology," he said as he smiled and gave her a nod to his head as she too bowed her head to him.

"Thank you, milord… Have a good evening My lord…. My lady"

"And you too, Lady Freyja," Lady Catherine's happily replied yet to the blonde knew the other woman did not mean it.

After she bowed to the duchess and to the duke again, she was quick to leave the room and to the hallways where her oldest maid stood talking to another maid.

The older woman excused herself and quickly went to her mistress's side.

"My lady?" Olivia's voice allowed the blonde to somewhat recover from her stupor but it did not shake the fear and disgust that still lingered over her head.

"I want to go back to my apartment," Freyja said in a tin voice, "And I would like a bath to be made for me…"

The maid stared at her for a minute before nodding.

"Yes Milady".

* * *

Despite wooing many women, Barst still has a way to go for he does not have moves like Jagger

A man you do not like is hitting on you! What do you do?  
-Insult him  
-Have your dog attack him  
-Scream Rape  
***-Leave the party**


	32. There is no limit to his douchbaggery

So anyway, I am going back to Cali, but I do not know when. Right now I am spending Thanksgiving with my Aunt (and my cousins and my nieces and nephew). My legs hurt as well as my left foot, for I have been through countless bus riders from Saratoga Springs to Missouri.

A word of advice/warning: if you lose something or if someone steals something of yours and you are on Greyhound, do not expect sympathy. They will straight up say that the company is not responsible for any lost or stolen items.

On a lighter note: The Land Before Time!

I used to love watching that movie! It had it all: adventure, comedy, the occasional near deaths, and a much needed happy ending. Though I think Cera is such a betch most of the time, but thanks to Daddy dearest, I guess it cannot be helped.

Oh man, I used to remember

Restrained. Freedom: Galbatorix has more class than his: how else did he get Freyja to like him so much? And I feel Barst can be greasier, but I am proud of how he is, cause I can make him do some pretty messed up things. Also, lol at your options

SilverWolf329- oh, wouldn't we all? Just remember: he'll get what's coming to him hopefully.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, for if I did, I would have made a reference to Jurassic Park

Quick note: I acknowledge my mistake with Barst: Paolini made him short (as Inherwiki had in his description 'Squat') while I made him into a giant. However, during his and Islanzadí, I pictured him menacing, shadowing over her ... looks like she got MACED!

* * *

Chapter 30

Old habits, new logic

_ Murtagh, when do you think we will leave?_

The raven haired man let out a small sigh,

'_Soon… probably_ _the day after tomorrow_'

The dragon rider had returned from the indoor sparing grounds he was met with the crude smell of sex and alcohol as well as screaming: he hated hearing and smelling it when he was a child and he hated it still.

Murtagh had almost forgot why he would stay close to his apartment (more importantly, his bed) whenever Barst was around.

Despite the son of Galbatorix having manners of a civilized human being, it was only used as a way to woo foolish women.

He turned to leave, but stopped as the screaming turned to gentle moaning and footsteps were leaving what was his room.

"I was expecting you to be here much later," Barst's mocking voice came from the dark hall as he now came into the dim lights of the front room, wearing only his pants on and was bare footed.

"Don't you have an apartment? Or do you enjoy having sex in other people's beds?"

"I only pick the ones that people tend to stay away," the older man laughed, yet the dragon rider gave him a stagnate stare, which Barst added, "Get that rod out of your ass, Murtagh, this only happened, what: Four? Five times now?"

"Fifteen".

"You keep count? That's sick"

"Says the man who has sex with women in other people's beds and promises them that they can live in Urû'baen: did you promise this woman the same thing?"

Barst rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"You _really_ think that _low of me_? I've only found three women that was worth the night, and no, I wouldn't _dare_ even bring them to Urû'baen," the older man said, furrowing his brow but his mood changed as he crossed his arms and relaxed his expression, "Though there is a girl I did find that is worth bringing back, though I think I will feel bad for not being her first".

Murtagh's skin crawled as what the older man said; not like anything he said hadn't done so already.

"Oh? You haven't told her that she would be given jewelry and new clothes?"

"I did and get this: she was playing the innocent virgin routine with me the whole time and then has the gall to curtsy to me before leaving me, but I guess it can't be helped since she is fresh meat".

"What do you mean?"

"She's from the desert outpost, supposedly. I would think she would have a tan being how she is from that hell hole," The dark eyed man commented as he rubbed his chin before continuing, "though I am somewhat positive she will come willing, if not, I fear my father will be getting a woman with a dislocated leg".

'_I see that women from Freyja's town have modesty, unlike most noblewomen here…_'

"Who might this girl be? I need to find her and congratulate her for being able to run away from you with her virginity and her legs intact".

"Ah, who was it…?" Barst looked around and scratched his head," Her name escaped me but she looks like a kid, maybe 13? 14? However she had these really catching eyes with long blond hair and I think she might have pretty nice ass underneath her dress, which if she does, it'll make up for the fact that she has mosquito-bite sized breasts".

Murtagh frown began to deepen.

_She sounds kinda like Freyja.  
_

Murtagh brushed away Thorn's observation._  
_

'_That isn't_ _how she_-'

"And she also had this ugly dog with her," Barst added, as if it was the only thing that was wrong with her, "I think it's called a pug?"

_Are you sure?_

'_Pretty sure of it_…'

_Well, make sure then, ask him if her name is Freyja_.

"Is her name Freyja?" the gray eyed rider asked, relaying Thorn's question to the taller man as the red dragon rider lowered his chin.

"Oh yes, Freyja, that was her name, such a fitting name too: though I had first that her name was Magdalena".

'_Goddamn it_'

Barst watched the dragon rider become apparently angered, and slowly the older man's mind made somewhat of a connection.

"What's with that look of yours? Don't tell me that you have your eyes set on her too? Poor thing, I hope she'll make through the month!"

The older man laughed at his own joke while Murtagh remained passive.

"She's my _wife_".

"Oh, by gods! She will surely die next week! Why must you get some of the decent pieces, Murtagh?" Barst asked, putting on a mask of mock disappointment.

"Barst… If I didn't know any better, I would believe you want to _ruin_ her integrity, and I believe you know how your own father feels about that right?" The dragon rider asked, tilting his head to the side as he didn't hold back the sarcasm.

Barst's humor vanished as he gave the red dragon rider a hard stare.

Galbatorix had made a rule that if a noblewoman's honor was ruined, then her father, husband, or anyone eligible would duel the person who dishonored the woman. Dark eyed man had his fair share of duels: winning every single one by nicking off a hand here or a finger there until the husbands and fathers of those women just gave up and would look the other way.

The King, however, was the only man who could actually get away scot-free with bedding with a woman he had taken a fancy to. For unlike Barst who had sired a few bastards and refused to acknowledge them, Galbatorix compensated the couple with a reasonable sum for the child he sired and gave the sai_d bastard a very good life, if not spoiled one._

_"Yo_u… Are you saying that you would want to duel me?" The dark eyed man asked, now his voice deathly low, "Even if it is his law, there is no way-"

"'No way'? Afraid that I will maul your looks beyond repair that not even an ugly old maid would fancy you? You are far vainer than I thought" the grey eyed dragon rider asked, mocking the taller man.

_Looks like_ _you have gotten the bull's attention_, _Murtagh, _Thorn mused, the dragon's humor slowly melting Murtagh's disgust and annoyance towards the other man.

Barst took a few steps over to Murtagh, towering over him, but the red dragon rider was unfazed: there were only two men he was ever afraid of, and Barst wasn't one of them.

They were silent, eying one another without blinking once; each one had an advantage over each other, but neither one had raised a finger for they were thinking of ways to cut one another down.

_Will you be able to take him on without getting hurt?_

Murtagh had to admit that Barst was stronger than he was, for one hit and the gray eyed rider would be thrown across the room like a sack of flour. But the younger man was smaller, he could easily use magic but they had roughly the same speed and Barst had his wards on him, even when he was not in battle, thus forcing Murtagh to fight with his bare hands.

_Would you need my help?_

They remained at a standstill until a soft sob was heard in the bedroom; they were quickly brought back to reality, blinking away their stare down.

'_Doesn't look like it... thank you anyway_'

"What of the women in _my_ room? Will you relocate their legs?"

"Mm, why should I bother? It's their fault that they wanted to bed with me, and they should know that I like it rough," Barst replied, crossing his arms and lifting his chin.

"Very well," Murtagh replied, annoyed with this conversation, "I will be sleeping elsewhere, but by tomorrow, my bedroom better be empty and my sheets as well as my room are to be clean".

"Of course, the _usual_ agreement".

Murtagh turned and was about to touch the door knob before he heard Barst chuckling.

"Oh yes, about your _little_ wife: if you don't want her, can I have her? Or if you want her, can you at least leave some for me: _I do not mind sloppy seconds_," The taller man said as his voice slowly sunk back into the dark hallway, "that is, if I do not do the honors myself".

Murtagh's only answer was a slammed door.

* * *

Barst: the Frat boy of Alagaësia

Fun fact: Magdalena was originally going to be Freyja's name when I was first starting off Spring during Winter, but I changed it to Freyja.

I know that Murtagh's reaction to this may seem a little apathetic, but when I wrote that he punched Barst in the stomach and then kneed him, well... I felt that it made him slightly out of character to me.

And for those who do not understand what Barst meant when he said 'if I do not do the honors myself': he is implying that he will rape Freyja, which I bet he could do easily, however, you shouldn't worry: our young heroine won't get raped (let us hope that my mind doesn't lead up to that)


	33. Could have been a lot worse

It's crazy how the inheritance cycle ended last month yet to me it seemed as if it ended just a week ago! So yeah, I am giving you this probable long ass chapter because I am not sure if I am going to have internet or not... ENJOY...!

Restrained. Freedom –Oh, don't worry… wait, do worry: the mind is such a dreadfully cynical thing to have and I enjoy putting my heroine through a lot of perils, however, she will be better than most (Such as Lavinia from Titus Andronicus). And even if Freyja was to try to scramble Barst's mind, she couldn't: he would probably have a ward against probing as he does against magic and poison (one of the upsides for being Daddy-Galbatorix's favorites, I guess). Geez, if I didn't know any better, I would believe that you want to kill out favorite Frat boy.

For people who do not know this: a Riding Habit is a dress a woman would wear whenever they ride horses. An example of what a not-so-traditional riding habit would be the attire Arwen wore when she helped Frodo ride away from the ring wraiths.

A lot of you know 'The Prince of Egypt': a clearly religious movie done by Dreamworks about Moses in a visually and musically pleasing movie that isn't Disney (but it was directed by the same guy who directed the Lion King). Yes, it may be religious, but it speaks for itself and most of the music is rather epic in any language, especially the beginning song 'Deliver us': despite being in just the beginning song Ofra Haza who voiced Moses' mom delivers her part beautifully and sung it in _18 of the languages this movie was translated into_.  
But I hate it whenever 'If you Believe' is used in AMVs or Musicvideos in general (doesn't matter the mood or how good the video maker is, I hate it). I really liked the movie and the songs in it but only when they are in the movie or if they are the songs, I only like them by themselves. I don't mean to sound closed minded but I separate my religion from my what I read and watch (I'm sorry, but I do not see how a religious song has _ANYTHING_ to deal with Naruto, Dragon Ball Z, Sailor Moon, or Bleach)

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, but even if I did or didn't, I would like to have Ofra Haza's voice.

* * *

Chapter 31

Throughout the night and into the morning, Freyja said nothing to all of her serving staff: it was hard it was hard to tell if she was angry or if she wanted to be alone; throughout the night, the staff kept quiet in respect but it was short-lived.

The entire morning she quietly read books about childish stories, wrote a letter before burning it and slowly ate her porridge and cream while her door was closed. Everyone passed by, looking at the door before then back to polishing with their heads somewhat down.

"What happened?" Winomina whispered to Olivia, finally breaking their own silence as they were both taking their time at dusting a stand, "She has not said a word ever since that party: did something…?"

Eragon looked about and saw that Kurt and the younger maids had stopped what they were doing and were listening on this as well.

"I wasn't there personally," the blue eyed maid said in a low voice, "but supposedly Lord Barst spoke to her for a little bit before Freyja left".

Gaynel and Juliana gasped as one covered her mouth and the other held her hands to her chest; the older maids and Kurt as well as Eragon looked to them.

"Do you know what that means?" Kurt asked, lifting a brow at the two.

"Lord Barst… well," Juliana paused, turning pale as she thought of him.

"He is rumored to have 'violent tendencies'," Gaynel finished as her hand moved from her mouth and then rested on the side of her cheek, "he's been known to cause a few women to go lame or would do something terrible to her or her loved ones if she did not comply…. However, I have not seen him do any of this before but from what I heard and from how he acts…"

"So it appears our lady was asked to bed with him?"

"Perhaps… I mean, I haven't and I think neither has Gaynel ever spoken to him nor have we actually been there to hear any of his conversations," Juliana silently added, "And those are just rumors… "

"So are the rumors of him being Galbatorix's son," Olivia pointed out, "And supposedly he accepts it".

'_So it is true…,_' Eragon thought as he stood silently away from them, '_It is funny how Orrin suggested when he was drunk and yet we disregarded it entirely, despite him pointing out that Barst had the Eldunarí_'.

Eragon remembered the previous king of Surda, Orrin, had fallen down pretty hard ever since Galbatorix forced him out of his kingdom.

The Surdan royal would always put up an act when he would address his army, who remained loyal to him (and the man was very good at appearing sober) but when he was not in front of his men, he would always drink as if he had an insatiable thirst.

The former king was a drunken mess behind closed doors and yet despite every suicidal attempt he would do in battle or every plan he made that seemed impossible was done possible and ended in a victory no less. His plans would almost always pull through with surprising results that even shocked the elves.

But those were during the times they actually listened to him: they simply saw that he was nothing more than a defeated man who drunk away his sorrow, his nightmares, his ghosts, and his demons.

Returning back from his thoughts, he and the serving staff said nothing as they continued to clean in silence before a soft knocking was heard.

"I will get it," Eragon offered as he threw the rag over his shoulder and reached the door, turning the knob awkwardly with his left hand and opened the door, only to take a few quick steps back.

After their talk of Barst, Eragon would have rather enjoyed opening the door to that man, but it appeared that fate had other things on its mind.

"Lord Murtagh," he muttered as he did his best to avoid eye contact; it wasn't that he was intimidated, it was just that he didn't know if Murtagh could see through this mask, and if he did, the younger man did not know whether or not he be would attacked.

Everyone stood still, watching him enter the apartment; he didn't even waste his time surveying them as he turned to Olivia.

"Does Freyja a dress to wear for riding?" he asked in a low tone; Eragon was sure that the red dragon rider didn't want Freyja to know he was there.

The older maid stared at him, digesting his question, before answering him with a few carefully chosen words.

"I beg your pardon, my lord?"

Murtagh said nothing for a minute, as if he was thinking of a name.

"A Riding Habit: the type of dress women wear when they ride horses?" he asked, already weary of this conversation.

"I do believe she does, but -"

"Then that is half the battle: alter it so it is to her knees, ave her hair at least tightly bound, and escort her to the armory at 11. I am sure you can have her ready by then?"

"Why of course-"

"Very well…And be sure she comes without that rat of hers: I fear if she were to bring it, it would be dead," Murtagh finished as he turned to leave, walking past Eragon only to catch each other's gaze before the older dragon rider left the apartment entirely.

Eragon closed to door, feeling everyone let out a sigh of relief.

"That man-" Olivia silently muttered before they heard a open.

"Who was it?" their gray eyed lady asked, not even hiding her worry or her curiosity.

Everyone was quiet until Kurt spoke up.

"Your presence is being summoned-"

"By whom?" she asked, somewhat gripping the door.

"Your husband…"

Her expression relaxed as she let out a sigh before quickly straightening her back.

"Wait, immediately?" The gray eyed lady asked, stopping halfway from her bedroom door.

"Of course not," Winomina said with a smile, "Though, we need to get you dressed and alter one of your dresses".

Freyja frowned at what she said.

"'Alter'?"

. . .

Freyja was afraid who when she heard that someone stopped by, for Barst's words echoed through her head and kept her up half of the night. But when she heard it was Murtagh, she felt somewhat better, but it confused her that he did not stay long.

None the less, the blonde and her maids went to her room where Winomina went into the closet and exited out with a rather old fashioned dress.

Freyja wasn't familiar with the word 'Riding Habit' but the attire was just like how she and the women of her desert town would wear, but slightly different: a long-sleeved shirt (or as Olivia called a blouse), a heavy morning gray long skirt which they quickly pinned and sewn it so that it exposed her knees which they did the same to her underskirt which they made her wear long stockings, and after she wore a coat that matched her skirt where the front went to her waist and the back of the coat stopped midway behind her legs.

During the entire time she stood, Puck kept on getting in their way but just as they thought they were going to push him away, he would always move form one area to another.

Freyja giggled as he did this as well as got on his hind legs and tried to balance himself as his tongue lolled out of his mouth.

"What do I wear for shoes?"

"There should be boots or something for you," Olivia declared as she checked the closet again and pulled boots that went up to her calves, which were a size too big for her

"You have really small feet," Gaynel giggled as they stared down at the boots, "Would you like us to stuff them?

"No," Freyja blushed as she sat down as Juliana and Winomina brushed her hair, "I am perfectly fine".

"Nothing is wrong with small feet, for you can easily wear those fancy looking shoes," Juliana said as they quickly finished brushing as Winomina began braiding the blonde's hair.

The older woman's fingers were very nimble and despite her speed, Freyja let out a small yelp whenever she tightened the braid.

"Why are you braiding my hair so tightly?" Freyja somewhat whined, feeling as if her hair was going to be torn out.

"Murtagh ordered it".

"Ordered that my hair to be braided?"

"Tightly braided," Gaynel added as she gave a small shrug.

As they were thankfully done with braiding, the older maid then pinned Freyja's hair to her scalp, causing the young girl to slightly bite down on her lower lip as it was finally over.

As they were done, Freyja looked over to her small vanity and saw a child whose hair was in a bun; Freyja somewhat sighed as the girl in the mirror copied her.

"You look very mature!" Olivia complimented, as if knowing what the young girl was sighing about.

"Thank you…," The young girl whispered as the older maid looked at the time.

"We have a little time left…" Kurt said through the door, his voice somewhat lined with urgency.

"Goodness, we needn't want you to be late!" Juliana chirped uneasily; Freyja didn't know why they were all uneasy but simply dismissed it as she rose and was again escorted out of her room and to the front door where again, Bergan was again was volunteered to escort her.

Just as she was about to grab for Puck, Olivia politely stopped her.

"Your husband sad for Puck to stay".

"Why?" The blonde girl asked, feeling somewhat childish.

"Well, the two of you might be riding and Puck might get in the way and..."

Freyja knew what the Maid meant and nodded and smiled down at the dog.

"Can you please take him out for a walk? I think he would like that".

"Of course, my lady," Kurt said as the gray eyed girl and the one armed servant left her apartment.

Freyja had to admit, nearly everywhere she went, he was always there to escort her but she didn't mind.

When they left her ward, she then decided to somewhat talk to him as they went down the rather large halls.

"It must be dull to escort me around…," Freyja remarked, causing Bergan to look her way.

"Why would you say that?"

"I really do not do much and if something did happen, it usually ends up with me getting hurt".

"Not at all… for it's usually dusting, sweeping, and more dusting," Bergan croaked as he waved his hand in front of his face, "It's terrible for my nose, so I would rather do something dull than dusting".

Freyja smiled, and in turn, he gave a crooked one back.

"Though… I've noticed that they tend to single you out," Freyja somewhat mused, causing Bergan to slightly frown.

"How so?"

"Whenever they do not want to or they are afraid to, they always pick you to escort me, always saying that you need more experience".

"Well… with a face like mine, I cannot blame them".

The young girl's eyes somewhat softened.

"I don't care what you look like… you seem really nice"

"Looks tend to say otherwise".

"Like Murtagh?"

Bergan answered her question after they passed a group of courtiers and nobles, which the two were oddly quiet as they passed them, .

"What… do you mean?"

"He's always frowning and when he isn't frowning he's probably glaring, and when he talks he sounds like he is insulting you rather than talking to you," Freyja explained folding her hands before her, "And I think if he somewhat smiles and speaks normally to people, then people would like him…"

The two were quiet for a few minutes before the older man replied, "Do you think so?"

The gray eyed girl nodded.

"My nurse said that you collect more flies with honey than vinegar".

The one armed man gave a snorted chuckle.

"That's a strange saying… but it is true… however… you might be right about it but there are some things you may not know…"

Freyja digested what he said and nodded, giving him an even bigger smile.

"You're right".

. . . .

Barst was true to his word, but the gray eyed rider wasn't too pleased in the first place, and what the older man said too also unnerved him but no matter for by this time the damned bastard was probably getting ready to leave.

The dragon rider wanted to get out of this place but he couldn't leave Freyja here: he had to keep her close if anything happened to her if she was to go on foot. Murtagh wasn't so sure how the girl was going to react to Thorn or riding on him which didn't seem so bad, yet he had to remind himself that Freyja wasn't used to dragons none the less riding one in the air several miles over the ground.

He had to get her used to the idea and feel of flying.

And while Freyja's reaction was on his mind, Murtagh couldn't help but find himself thinking about the servant with one arm he sat beside Thorn who had his massive head on the ground and beside his rider.

Something about that one armed man kept pestering, and pestering him today as the two made brief eye contact before the red dragon rider left.

_Lay off of it: you're going to get yourself gray hairs and wrinkles! _Thorn said as a wisp of smoke was let out of his nostril._  
_

'_Even if this man appears to be a nobody, doesn't mean he is'_.

_And just because_ YOU _think he is a somebody doesn't mean you should worry about it_.

'_Your words are very heartening_'.

_Like I said before: lay off of it. If it means anything, you can check his mind, _Thorn said as he lazily blinked his eyes; Murtagh was sure that if Thorn could, he would be smiling right now.

'_I did_'

_When?_

'_This morning, just after I left. I looked into his mind and saw nothing_'.

_Nothing? Like nothing to worry about or you couldn't sense anything?_

'_It was like groping in the dark for something and getting nothing_'

_Now that's strange, for granted, there are a few humans that are like that but now, at least you have an excuse to be worried._

_An excuse_? Murtagh replied, somewhat making a face, yet knew Thorn was cheering him up.

Thorn's laughter filled his head as he looked from Thorn and nearly jumped as he saw the one armed man.

'_He's here_!'

_Along with Freyja_.

The maids did as he asked, and as he rose to greet her, he could see that her face was that of a doe staring at a hunter.

"Freyja".

She didn't respond for her eyes were on Thorn, who had now lifted his head.

"Freyja," Murtagh said a little forcefully, causing her and the servant to somewhat jump; the red dragon rider narrowed his eyes at the man as he then said, "You may leave, you're not needed here".

The man again made eye contact with him and gave a respectful bow before leaving the two; Freyja somewhat sobered from her fear but her face somewhat pinched.

_She's not letting me talk to her._

'_Why would you want to talk with her?_'

_I am curious to see who she is._

"He wants to talk with you, though... I am sorry that he is being a little rude right now".

"Who?" She asked in a small voice, as her hands were gripping one another as Thorn let out another wisp of smoke from his nostrils, making a sound that sounded like a grunt, which caused Freyja to jump.

"Thorn," Murtagh said as he gestured to the Red dragon, "he and I serve Galbatorix together... would you prefer that I relay his messages to you?".

"Thorn… I see... Tell him I said 'hello'," she said, giving a genuine smile before fainting.

The gray eyed man caught his wife, somewhat sighing and rolling his eyes as he did so.

_She took it better than I thought!_

"How so?" the raven haired rider asked, not bothering to answer with his mind.

_She could have been screaming_!

* * *

Oh Thorn, always looking on the bright side of things!

I am not going to lie to you: filler chapter, because if it wasn't, then I would have already thought of a dignified name for this chapter


	34. Christmas Special Part 1

Hark! Here is a holiday special but unlike Halloween (that was a dreadfully messy!)where this will be a cliché spoof off of 'A Christmas Carol'.

I was inspired by a Muppet Christmas Carol with Michael Cain; I really liked it (if you watch it closely in the beginning when Scrooge is pushing Science and Beaker out his bank, Beaker literally gives Scrooge the finger near the end of the scene). I could have used 'It's a Wonderful Life' but I was like 'naaah', even though I liked the movie (My mom got VHS player when I was out and we also had the movie on cassette).

This will be in four parts (Each part is pretty long, I do not want to push it to five parts) so yeah, four freakin parts on noncanon story that is noncanon to the original story.

Restrained. Freedom- It will happen soon... but you will have to endure this long ass Christmas Special

Ennarre- I did, it was the Halloween thing ( I deleted it), but other than that I did not delete anything else

Love Anime Girl Love- Oh.. thank you

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, for if I did, Galbatorix would have sharks with laser beams attached to their heads.

* * *

Christmas Special 1

He never personally liked this particular holiday, which you couldn't really blame him if you were there for those notorious Christmas parties with his father: drunken blurs, violent hangovers, and the nasty details in between. Later he considered himself lucky after he found out what his father had done when he was not in the courtroom.

After Morzan's death, Murtagh tried his best to stay away from holiday parties and when he was invited to them, he stomached the party-goers and the fake atmosphere.

His attitude slightly sobered when he became friends with a younger man named Thorn, whom he met in his late college days but later wished he hadn't found out that Thorn was an adopted son of Galbatorix.

After he grudgingly accepted an offer from Galbatorix and soon was regarded as a bastard and a scourge in the courtroom. Many times he tried his best to separate himself from his father or Galbatorix, but it would always fail until he just gave up.

It was late summer when Galbatorix had a party which was basically a mudslinging party against Nasuada, Murtagh's ex-fiancé and the next young, promising candidate for mayor as well as a victory against the Varden. Murtagh and Galbatorix had won a case against their rival company the Varden that supported Nasuada and her campaign; everyone around him was happy but the gray eyed young man was at his new low.

During the party Murtagh was hitting the bottle a lot harder than most of the people that crowded the bar but that didn't mean anyone noticed it. Thorn tried his best to distract his friend, knowing full well about the relationship between Nasuada and his best friend; he kept urging Murtagh to flirt or even ask a girl out whenever he didn't have a drink to his mouth.

Murtagh did forget her for a few hours and the rest of the night, which was blurred by the alcohol; he didn't know why he decided to have a one night stand or why he picked Freyja (or why she even went through with it), but the next morning was terrible. Not only because of the hangover (his head felt like someone was hitting his head constantly) but with her crying and sobbing didn't really help, either, but he managed to keep his head intact.

Once he was able to calm her down, he gave her his card, saying that if she was in any trouble that she should call him. After that, he paid no mind to her or what happened for two months later when Galbatorix called him, telling Murtagh that one of his partner's daughter was pregnant and that the girl was the same girl from the one night stand who had his card. Murtagh was at first reluctant and claimed that the child was not his, but Galbatorix always had a way of making people agree with him.

Galbatorix was very good at getting what he wanted, especially if it was at another's risks, which to him made it even better to have. And when the head of Urû'baen corporation learned that the ones who would inherit the De'Agustinet would not be his oldest daughter, a model with a successful reality TV show, the son who own his own airline and ship line but to third oldest twins, the 24 year old a son who was good with numbers and pretty much a hermit and an entrepreneur as well as charitable daughter, Galbatorix decided to take advantage of it.

Thorn was at first for Murtagh but he seemed to have changed when he spoke to Freyja and then told Murtagh that she was actually a nice kid, which didn't make Murtagh any happy.

Before the blonde, the penthouse was at first bare when he considered himself a bachelor but after Freyja 'moved in' there was a warm glow within each room. This changed once the blonde girl entered the picture for the white walls were changed into a warm light cinnamon brown with rugs on the hallway floor and just about any room, and a little more furniture was added in (as well as a piano).

Freyja seemed like a fairy tale (pregnant) Disney princess who stumbled into the wrong story, for every time she hummed whenever she cleaned or cooked, he waited for the birds and the random deer to come in and frolic around her. Thorn rather liked it and the rugs; for he had a habit of sleeping on them whenever he asked Freyja to play on the piano, while Murtagh kept his mouth shut and simply kept himself in his office.

As of now they were married for at least five months (nearly half of the time he was off doing 'business trips') and this was considered their first Christmas together.

Before Murtagh could even try to book a flight or even a hotel, there was a blizzard surrounding the entire city that made it impossible for ongoing or even incoming flights; now he was forced to stay in their penthouse, hoping to god there was not a party.

So on the morning of Christmas Eve Murtagh woke up to his cell phone, and who else but Eragon was on the phone.

"What do you want?" The sleepy, raven haired man grumbled, glaring at the electric clock which read a red 11:31.

"You're still asleep? It's 11:30," his younger brother said, sounding surprised that Murtagh slept in.

"It's a holiday, of course I am going to sleep in".

"Tomorrow is a holiday, today is Christmas Eve, which again I ask, why are you sleeping in?"

Murtagh growled softly, rubbing his eyes and letting out a sigh.

"I don't care if it is Halloween or Easter, and again _I _ask: _what do you want_?"

"Well… Tomorrow is Christmas and I was wondering if you want to go to my party?" Eragon asked, somewhat wavering before continuing confident, "Everyone will be there: Saphira, Roran, Katrina, Ismira and Garrow will be there. Did you know Ismira's 8 and already have 15 trophies? Garrow seems mostly interested in soccer and baseball. Oh and there will be Saphira, Orik (you know, he is a little sour after that case ten years ago, maybe you two should talk about it), Arya, and… Nasuada".

The gray eyed man scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Eragon, it was 7 years ago, we were kids; yeah, it was sad but it's over," the older brother blandly remarked, "And let me guess, who else would be there? Islanzadí, Orrin and that head of that guerilla group the Urgals… what was his name again?"

"Garzhvog and the civil war in his country is over, so there is no need to refer to his group or him as a guerilla group".

"Right… Whatever… I'll think about it".

"_Please _Murtagh, you rarely go to parties, especially holiday ones… You know I'd like to see you more often and talk to you face-to-face rather than over the phone".

"I said I'll think about it".

"Okay… so how is Thorn and Freyja?"

"Thorn is getting better after what Saphira did to him: why the hell did she almost bludgeon him? Thorn hasn't told me".

Eragon sighed over on the other line.

"I don't know… she hasn't gotten around to telling me and Thorn hasn't pressed charges on her".

"Uh-huh, which I think he has a pretty solid case against her and I doubt she will be able to get away with it again".

Again his younger brother sighed.

"It is the past; she paid the bills and said she was sorry countless times… so how is Freyja doing? I heard she donated to an orphanage and a Church and that she helped fund a research for children with horrible diseases".

"You forgot that the business she is partnered in is beginning to flourish," Murtagh said in a bored voice as he looked over his shoulder to see her side of the bed was empty and then looked to the right side of him to see a tray with his surprisingly still hot breakfast and the morning newspaper.

"But _how_ is she? And how's the baby? I haven't heard from her ever since I changed my phone number… did you give her my phone number?"

"She must have lost it and the pregnancy is doing good… so far"

"_Mur_tagh…"

"Eragon, please, she helps people as well as owns a business but she forgets just like a normal person".

"Okay Murtagh… Just… Okay…," His younger brother, sighing as he moved the phone to his other ear, "Well, if you don't want to come by yourself, why don't you bring Thorn? Freyja?"

"I'll think about it".

"Okay then… see you soon, Merry Christmas".

"Yeah, bye Eragon," Murtagh replied as he hung up and turned to his food.

As he finished, he picked up the tray and walked out of the bedroom and into the hallway where he then turned left and into the kitchen, where Freyja was washing the dishes.

"Good morning," she said as she looked over her shoulder as her blonde, curly hair was pulled back in a loose pony tail as she had her deep purple apron on though that did not hide the baby bump, "I did not think you would be up by now".

"Eragon called".

She placed the dirty bowl into the sink and folded her rubber gloved hands together; he noticed that she had a particular light in her eyes.

Murtagh looked to see a plate of cookies already decorated with icing in the shapes of snow flakes, Santas, and Snowmen.

"Really…? What did he want?"

"Just to talk," Murtagh replied as he handed the plate to her and put the tray onto the counter, "What will you be making for dinner tomorrow?"

"Oh, it's Christmas so I will be making a Goose," she said as she flashed him a small smile and placed the plate into the soapy waters, "It is not a duck but it will be good".

"Whatever".

"Maybe," Freyja said cautiously, as if she was afraid he would lose interest in the conversation, "I can get away with sugared Plums"

"It's that just plums with sugar on them?"

"No, they are a mix of a few berries and nuts with sugar on them".

"Huh…" Murtagh muttered as he took one last drink of his milk and handed it to Freyja, who obediently took it and put it in the dishwater.

There was a knocking on the door and a bell, which Murtagh walked out of the kitchen, where Freyja didn't bother to look up, and he walked down the hallway, across the living room and opened the front door.

"I see you just got up," Thorn said with a bright smile, which Murtagh himself smirked and the two hugged one another.

"What brings you here?" Murtagh asked, letting his friend in.

Thorn was a rather tall, muscular young man with rather pale skin, red somewhat kept hair, reddish brown eyes, and freckles over his nose and upper cheeks. The younger was still in college, but it wasn't quite certain what he wanted to be due to the fact that he studied whatever subject he wanted.

"I wanted to stop by because Freyja promised to give me some sugar cookies," Thorn hummed before looked over Murtagh's shoulder, " ah looks like you're in the Christmas spirit".

"You're such a kid," Murtagh scoffed as he closed the door behind his younger friend as he then looked at the small Christmas tree in the corner of the living room, which he sighed, "Freyja must have put it up; I'll take it down when you leave… So, how is your arm?"

Thorn frowned, lifting a brow at his gray eyed friend as they walked out of the living room and into the hallway.

"No, leave it, it makes the place look nice and did Eragon called you? Let it go, it happened a long time ago, man, I am doing better," He said as he casually waved his arm, but it was slower than how he would usually move it, "Well, not exactly better, but I am alive, aren't I?"

"What did you two talk about that caused her to attack you?"

"It was a miscommunication and I wouldn't want either of us to be dragged into a court battle… You of all people know that I hate going to court".

They said nothing as they went into the kitchen where Freyja was putting away the cleaned dishes.

"Hello Thorn," the blonde said as she walked around the counter and hugged him, who in turned hugged her back; Murtagh moved to the side and sat down at the kitchen table, watching the two of them. Freyja then walked back beside the counter, taking out a cup from the cupboard and went to the refrigerator and grabbed the milk, pouring a glass for Thorn.

"Hey Freyja! It's good to see you and the baby are doing well as well as in the Christmas spirit," he laughed as Freyja's smile grew while he sat down, "Nice little tree, though you need a bigger one next year".

"Or not," Murtagh said, causing Thorn to scoff and roll his eyes.

"Stop being a scrooge, it's your very own tree".

Once she put the milk away, she picked up the plate and cup and placed the milk beside the red head and the plate in the middle of the two men. Thorn grabbed a snowman and bit off its head, happily chewing the cookie as Freyja retreated behind the counter.

"You… liked it?" she asked pensively as she shyly looked up.

"It would be better if it was bigger and if you had more Christmas decorations, but it is good. If ever had a girlfriend like you, I think I would have gained thirty pounds," Thorn remarked as he quickly thanked her as she placed a cup of milk in front of him.

"Would you like some milk?" she asked, stopping mid step at the refrigerator.

"No, I'm fine".

"You can bite off the heads of the Santas and the Snowmen if you want," Thorn suggested as he took a few sips of his milk.

"I just ate".

"Mm-hm… so what are you up to? Are the two of you going to have Christmas party?"

"You know how I feel about parties," Murtagh said as Freyja began to wipe down the counters, "Especially Christmas parties: I hate them".

Freyja somewhat stopped, sheepishly looking to Murtagh before continuing; Thorn saw it and so did Murtagh, but the gray eyed man didn't seem to care.

"Well, granted you've had a few mishaps but that doesn't mean you hate the entire holiday"

"It's a cheap holiday, what's the point in having it other than people spending money, pretending to like one another, and lets not forget others suing one another".

"Okay… no party but how can I treat you two to Christmas dinner? No, don't worry, it's not going to be McDonalds or Denny's, but I'd like to give Freyja a break and off of her feet".

Freyja silently laughed as she dried the counter; Murtagh thought this over and shrugged.

"I'll think about it…"

Thorn stopped mid-bite and placed the cookie down and slightly furrowed his brow.

"Don't do this to me".

"What do you mean?" Murtagh asked, frowning at what Thorn said.

"I've heard that before; don't do this to me Murtagh. I understand all of those things, and I've asked you about several things and whenever you said 'I'll think about it' usually means 'we're not talking about this anymore'," Thorn said coolly, but it was apparent that he was angry.

"Thorn, please," Murtagh sighed, rubbing his brow.

"Throw me a bone here, I know I am not your brother, but don't treat me like him; I will make you go out to dinner with me and Freyja whether you like to or not".

"What will be for dinner tomorrow?" Freyja asked, wringing the dish rag in the sink.

"I don't know yet… I know a pretty good Tex-Mex restaurant that will be open and then there is a Chinese restaurant, Korean, and even a 50's Diner," Thorn said, smiled at her but as he turned to Murtagh, he was somewhat serious.

"Okay…," Murtagh sighed as he shook his head, "Okay I will definitely _consider_ it".

"Good," Thorn said as he flashed him a sharp smile as he got up and grabbed a cookie, "So Freyja and I will be back: we'll be shopping and such… I am sure you do not mind of course".

. . .

The rest of the day Murtagh was in his office, reading, reviewing, and making calls until he heard the door. He looked to his watch, seeing that it was going on 12 when it appeared she arrived; granted, she was usually out for an hour whenever she shopped for herself or groceries but not for this long.

The gray eyed man left his office and found Freyja wearily taking off her coat and her shoes which when she saw him she regarded him with a smile.

"Hello Murtagh…"

"How was your… 'Shopping' thing?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"Oh… we found a few good things… I'll tell you more tomorrow…," she yawned as she slightly rested her head on his arm before turning and walk slowly past him, looking over her shoulder she said, "You should get some sleep… You'll need it for tomorrow…Merry Christmas…"

He watched her as she yawned again in and slowly went into the dark hallway and simply sighed as he went back to his office to work.

It was quiet as he continued to work until 12:30 when there was a knocking at the door.

"Why would Thorn wait a half an hour until after Freyja came back?" Murtagh muttered to himself as he checked keyhole, frowning to find no-one there.

It was a small, one-way hallway, so there were very little places to hide; the gray eyed man opened the door to look around but found no-one there.

He went back in and closed the door, furrowing his brow as he stopped halfway and rubbed his neck; and almost on cue, again there was again a soft knocking on the door, which Murtagh quickly grabbed the doorknob and opened the door.

A thin man stood in the doorway wearing a tux with a navy blue trench coat; he was frightfully pale with striking deep brown eyes and had a strong jaw.

"Tornac?" Murtagh managed to say as he took a few steps back.

The man who was supposedly Tornac entered the room, looking around and past Murtagh as he gently touching the loveseat nearest to the door and sat down in it.

The gray eyed man stood there for a moment, in puzzled shock before recovering, gritting his teeth and tightening his hands into tight fists.

"Look, I do not know who you are nor why you have come here, but who the hell do you think you are?" he hissed, trying to control himself from lashing out, "Get out".

The man in the trench coat said nothing as he ran his hand over the arm of the loveseat.

"Did you hear what I-" The gray eyed man growled as stepped over and grabbed for the man's shoulder but to his shock, his hand went right through the stranger.

"What a greetings," Tornac said, looking over his shoulder and lifting his brow at the younger, clearly living man, "It's good to see you are doing fine".

"You… You're dead…," Murtagh whispered, stumbling over his own feet as he felt his breathe shorten, "Oh god…"

"Tell me something I don't know," Tornac said as he got up and looked down at his former friend, "It's good to see your place is clean but this a little better than how you usually have it and with more furniture… Maid? No… You are not usually one for that… Girlfriend?"

The dead man's eyes looked at the younger man's hands.

"Ah married…," the dead man said as he walked through the loveseat.

Murtagh rubbed his forehead, trying to make sense of things.

"I must be staying up late or something… Or food poisoning… you can't be…"

"Get up Murtagh; if I wanted you sitting down, I could've woken you up," Tornac said, folding his arms across his chest.

The raven haired man complied, but he tried to make sense of this.

"I don't get it…"

"Well, I am dead, you remember that: it was when you were 14 years old on Christmas. You hated that Christmas party, not only because it was Galbatorix's party, it was what you refered to as an 'adult party'," the dead man said as it seemed his very eyes softened, "You were wanting to leave as soon as Galbatorix was out of sight… you never liked that man and I couldn't blame you, but just when we were blocks away from the airport we were clipped pretty badly by a drunk driver".

Murtagh looked down, somewhat cringing at what he said.

"It's funny how nobody can expect it to happen to them…," Tornac softly continued before recovering from his reminiscence, "Oh well, it's been done, but I am not here to reminisce. I know you haven't had the best of lives to start out but now that you're older, you have more opportunities to live your life, enjoy it even… well even through you are a lawyer for Galbatorix make some good out of-"

"What good is there? I am no better than what I was before: I was forced to marry, I am hated, and nobody would think little or more of me if I was to do much with my life".

"How can you say that? You are your own man; even if you are working for Galbatorix, you can do whatever you want: you can divorce her, make the best out of your marriage, donate to anything, finance a business, or meet up with that brother of yours. You're the only one in your way, stop holding back!"

Murtagh couldn't make sense out of either one as he shook his head.

"No…"

Tornac sighed and slapped the back of his head; Murtagh let out a gasp, at the surprise of the short pain he felt.

"Get over it. The reason why I am here is to save you and others from yourself".

This time the younger man looked up to his old friend.

"_Save me_ from _myself_? _Save others_?"

"Stop repeating after me," Tornac growled, and it felt like his old friend was alive again, but as the man was serious, "Now since you are not getting this, let me make it a little clearer: three other spirits will come to you. One you already know, another that you might know, and the last you might not know but you've seen him"

"Ghosts…? No way could-" but Murtagh caught himself, "This isn't like the Christmas Carol is it? And if it is, why are you here telling me this? You've loved your life, you did everything-"

"Which you're not doing… No, I am not 'living' in hell but I am 'living' comfortably," Tornac emphasized, "I don't want you to become a hated man, I want you to live your life the best you can and not be so angry…"

Murtagh could have sworn he had seen the ghost was about to cry but it could have been his imagination.

"I have to go… Expect the first ghost at one," Tornac said as he walked to the door that opened and stopped, looking over his shoulder he then said, "It's good to see you again".

Once Tornac walked through the doorway, instantly the door shut.


	35. Christmas Special Part 2

Here is part two! And we'll see Christmas past!

Yeah, a character from here was inspired by a character from another story I have read (it was called 'Selena was a Wicked Woman') and I really liked it because not only the name caught my attention but I liked the story itself. But My kiddy Murtagh is a little sweeter than hers… oh gawd diabetes.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, if I did, I would allow us to see more into Shruikan's personality (I don't care if he is mad, I wanted more depth into it)

* * *

Christmas Special 2

Murtagh rushed to the door and threw it open, looking from the side to side and then hurried to the elevator only to see that it was not in use; the raven haired man let out a dry sob.

He slowly collected himself as he went back to the living room and closed the door.

"One o'clock…"

"Murtagh… are you alright?" a soft voice came from the down the hallway that suddenly became lit.

The gray eyed man jumped at the voice and went to the doorway to see Freyja looking from the bedroom door.

"What?" he asked, making it so he sounded more annoyed than afraid.

"I… I wanted to see if you were alright… I heard the door slam open…," she said as she looked down, not even attempting to make eye contact, "It sounded like you were talking to someone".

"It was nothing… go back to bed," he said as she somewhat flinched.

"Okay…." She replied as she turned off the light and went into the bedroom.

Murtagh went back into the living room, looking at his watch it read 12:40.

"'The ghost of Christmas past'… and it would be someone I know…," he muttered as he somewhat shivered.

'_But who?_' he asked himself as he feared who he would meet.

During the entire time he contemplated on who it could ever be as he tried to calm his nerves and repeated that it was all a dream, yet he couldn't shake the feeling of what Tornac said.

As it turned one, Murtagh half expected the door open or a knock so he stood by the door and looked through the eye hole and looked away before checking it again.

"Are you waiting for someone?"

Murtagh looked over and saw his mother, sitting at the couch wearing her best attire: it was a soft purple gown of and she had a pure white fur shawl on her shoulders with a diamond necklace that twinkled as she wore bright red lipstick and her hair was done in a tight yet stylish bun.

She looked like a movie star from black and white movies that she would watch with him, and he would always tell her that when he managed to stay up late and when she and his father were going out. His mother would lovingly laugh and give him a kiss on the cheek while his father would roll his eyes and jealously glared at his son.

"M-mom?"

"Hello Murtagh," She said in a warm voice as she rose, "It is good to see you again".

"Are you here because-"

"Yes I am," she solemnly replied as she walked to him, "I know you've had your fair share of misfortune, but now that you are older, I expected you to enjoy your life".

"Ah that… well I can't do much because-"

"Now Murtagh, it was both yours and her fault: you should have known that drinking as much as you did and you could have used protection… But I am not here to tell you what you did… I am here to show you your past"

Murtagh shook his head.

"Please don't…I've already-"

"I will be there with you… even when I wasn't there in the flesh…," she said as she touched his shoulder and guided him literally through the wall, which felt like they were walking through water. .

All was suddenly black until there was a bright, cheery light: a large Christmas tree adorned with ornaments and yards of multicolor light with a skirt beneath where the stump was. There were a few presents underneath them and just a few feet from the tree on the dark colored rug was a child quietly looking opening his present.

He was sitting in a wheel chair while the fire cracked across the room where an empty easy chair stood in front of the fireplace.

A woman came in, a rather plain looking woman who was Murtagh's old nanny, with a smile and a tray.

The boy looked up and smiled back.

"Looks like you were a good boy this year to get three presents", Murtagh," she hummed as she kneeled beside the boy and placed the tray beside the chair, "What did you get?"

"Well… It's the Batman action figure I wanted," The young boy said as he took out an action figure; he always liked the TV show and had religiously watched the show every day before itching his shoulder, making a slight face as he did.

"Ah," the ghost woman said as she frowned, "That incident…"

"11 days before Christmas, 6 surgeries and 5 days in the hospital. Took me 3 days for the pain to get used to the pain and two and a half years in physical Therapy which did not include the other things that happened to me during the time," Murtagh frigidly recited as his Mother painfully nodded.

"Don't scratch them," his nanny gently scolded as she gently rubbed his hand.

"The bandages are really itchy…," The boy complained as he tried his best to keep his hands from in his lap.

"Now what did your mother give you?" His nanny asked,

"She told me that she was going to come stop by and give it to me".

"Oh she will?" the Nanny replied, somewhat uncertain, but the child didn't seem to care.

"There is a present for you… I kinda made it myself: it is the blue one with the white bow," the child said as he pointed to the rather small box in the front.

"Are you sure?" the woman asked, somewhat confused, but the young child nodded.

She got up and walked over to the tree, getting the present; she knelt down beside the boy and unwrapped it before she gently smiled.

"Murtagh…"

"I remember being told that if someone gives you something good, you give them back a gift twice as good," he said, giving a toothy grin.

It was a beaded bracelet with colors ranging from cotton candy blue, fire engine red, and glittery clear beads; the bracelet itself was done with uttermost care and some love was put into it.

"This is…"

"Is that bad?" The child quickly asked, looking alarmed, as if his father was going to appear, "I can try and give you another present".

"No… don't worry, sweetie…," The Nanny cooed as she leaned over and hugged him, "This is one of the best presents I ever gotten… thank you…"

She kissed his cheek and he hugged her before she went back and placed the tray that had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and milk with a Christmas cookie beside it.

"Can you wear it?" the young Murtagh asked as she nodded and took the bracelet out and clipped it on.

"Well, of course wear this all the time but it looks like I am going to have to give you a gift just a good," she said as the child happily nibbled on the cookie.

"No… you being here is the best present you can ever give me…"

"She was with you up until you were 8, right?" His mother asked as the image slowly began to fade.

"She was," Murtagh said as he felt a tinge of longing, "She was like a second mother to me and made me smile whenever I had the accident of meeting my dad. She helped me when you were in the hospital and after your death… but she couldn't hide me from the anger and beatings".

"I tried…," Selene said as Murtagh shrugged.

"What could you do? Father had a way having to admit he had a problem, and if someone accused him of something he didn't want to hear, he would wipe it clean as if no one had ever thought or even heard it. I know the therapists were shut up and the social workers was easily paid off or even scared off. But no matter what, she kept me somewhat safe".

"I 'heard' she is in town," Selene said to him with a smile, as she rubbed his shoulder, "Maybe you should give her pay her a visit?"

"I…," Murtagh paused, somewhat trying to find the words, "Is she?"

"Maybe you should not stay in your office… ah, here is a party," Selene said they walked past the Nanny and the boy in the wheelchair and through the wall where they walked into a room where a party was taking place.

There was a bigger Christmas tree with more gaudy ornaments, twinkling lights and even a popcorn garland; there was a buffet, people laughing and drinking punch, a few party 'games' was going on, and in the corner was a now older Murtagh, who was 9 years old. He was wearing a sweater and slacks with a cup of punch in his hands as he looked bored and annoyed, clearly not wanting to be there.

"Hello Murtagh," Galbatorix said as he walked over to the younger boy who was in turned gave him a small smile.

"Ah, you liked him for a time," Selene said as Murtagh shrugged.

"For a time," he curtly replied as a familiar face stood beside Galbatorix.

"Hello Uncle Galbatorix… Merry Christmas".

"Ah, Merry Christmas… sorry there aren't a lot of kids around here, usually these people tend to be single or have baby sitters".

"I doubt it would even matter," the young Murtagh replied as Galbatorix motioned to the then alive Tornac.

"Well, I feel bad about it, but I have found someone who wants to meet you," the older man said with a sickly sweet smile.

"Hello, I'm Tornac," The man said as he held his hand to the younger man.

"Murtagh," the younger man said shaking his hand.

"I'll let you two be… I have a few people to greet," The elder of the three said as he walked away.

"You… You wouldn't be one of the best riflemen and fencing champion would you?" the gray eyed boy asked as Tornac chuckled.

"That would be swordsman and yes; I am… though how did you know? I rarely do interviews".

"I was at a few tournaments but I have never met you up close," Murtagh giddily said, clearly excited, "I tend to shy away from firearms but I am fairly good at using a sword and I am fairly good at horse riding".

"Ah horse riding," the older man said, lifting a brow, "That is a pretty good hobby; it's a lot better than betting on horses".

"I could care less for betting in general"

"You seem like a pretty nice kid with a good head on your shoulders," Tornac said as he chuckled, "I've met my fair share of 'rich' kids and neither of them was as likable as you".

"Should I take that as a compliment or as a grain of salt?" The young gray eyed kid asked, causing the older man to somewhat laugh.

"It would depend on how you look at it," The older man replied smiling, "I heard that you are a pretty bright kid but you do stupid stunts that got a few people's attention".

"And I should be worried?"

"Well… since I will be with you most of the time, everyone else will be worried instead".

"He was a very forward man, a great friend and a good teacher," the older Murtagh said as he softly smirked as his mother smiled.

"So he was your bodyguard?"

"He didn't act like one and he stopped me from being stupid," he said as he and his mother walked through the wall beside the Christmas tree.

"Define stupid, dear," Selena asked, lifting her brow.

"Hacking a system or too… Sabotaging meeting or two, the usual things, nothing newspaper worthy".

"Now why couldn't you be a computer designer?"

"I preferred working court cases-"

He stopped as they were now as he saw his younger self standing beside Tornac's casket, his jaw slightly tightening as he curled his hand in a fist as he said nothing at all; Selene sighed at what she saw.

"He meant a lot to you…," she said as it appeared the plain looking Nanny appeared, slightly older and worn but as she stood beside the younger Murtagh, she looked younger and the boy slightly loosened his grip and somewhat relaxed, "You called her".

"I was a mess when I did… She luckily had the same phone number and it was well into the morning when she came, tired but she didn't even care…"

"She was still wearing that bracelet," Selena observed as the beaded bracelet on the older woman's wrist.

"I never noticed," Murtagh softly replied as his mother quickly guided them through yet another wall.

Despite the events, they were now at a college party, and the young Murtagh grew; by that time he had met his half brother who was also going to be a lawyer and the two almost instantly became friends, if not friendly rivals.

There was a Christmas tree but it was small and tacky, like the tree in the Charlie Brown Christmas special, but it didn't seem to affect anyone, instead, it apparently improved the atmosphere as everyone laughed and joked.

A 22 year old Murtagh stood rather happily by himself as he watched the others talk before Eragon appeared, with his usual air headed grin; Selena laughed at how her youngest son sloppily rested his arm on her eldest's shoulder.

"So, I take it you're having fun?" The brown eyed 19 year old asked as past-Murtagh brushed him off.

"I was until you stopped by. Thanks for the invitation: that paper was killing me".

"Oh yes, 13 pages of dread is probably easy for you since you have no life," Eragon remarked, rolling his eyes as Murtagh lifted a brow.

"Says the guy who cannot get the girl that he likes. Seriously, she out of your _league_," Murtagh gestured to the ever-so-perfect Arya, who was talking to people just like her: sickeningly perfect, "Why do you even bother?"

"I am wearing her down, it takes time for that, you know?"

"Oh, sure-" the gray eyed 22 year old remarked as he rolled his eyes and stopped.

"'Oh sure' what? Murtagh…," Eragon said as he waved his hand in front of his older brother's face, "Earth to Murtagh".

Selena giggled.

"I know that look… Is that her?" the ghost woman asked as instantly Nasuada came into view.

"Yes that is…," the older Murtagh said as he somewhat cringed as he couldn't help but feel his heart somewhat tear.

Nasuada wore a red mini-dress with a hot yellow sweater and green leggings as she had her hair styled in an elaborate bun; granted what she wore didn't not catch his attention but it was her laugh and how she laughed that did.

"Oh…," the 22 year old muttered as Eragon finally saw what Murtagh saw.

"Ooh, Nasuada? Oh-ho, I wonder what will you do to break the ice? Bore her with Greek literature? Try Shakespeare on to win her over? Oh, even better, do her homework?"

"If I wanted good advice, I could have asked Roran: at least he has a girlfriend".

Eragon scoffed, somewhat wounded but not out.

"Well, why don't you go talk to her?"

"Maybe I will," he replied as he walked over to her, carefully walking around the 'elves' and finally reached Nasuada who was taking a sip of eggnog when she noticed him.

"Oh god…!" she gasped as she nearly choked on her drink which caused Murtagh lean back; she quickly recovered as she covered her smile with her nail polished hand, "Sorry about that…!"

"Don't worry, I tend to get that a lot," Murtagh casually replied, shrugging.

"Do you?" Selena asked which the older Murtagh gave a good natured snort.

"Only when I win a case… which tends to happen a lot".

His mother sighed, slightly shaking her head but her smile never left her face.

"No, No," Nasuada said as she flashed him a bright grin, "You see, a few of my girlfriends and I were talking about you and your brother and how we were surprised that you were related. So when one of them suggested that she wouldn't mind dating Eragon but…"

"Yeah, she is going to be single for the rest of her life if she ever wants to date Eragon".

Nasuada chuckled.

"Oh yeah, I told her that too, and when they asked me… well…," she covered her mouth again and giggled; Murtagh was sure and still was sure that she was blushing, "You showing up seems like a coincidence!"

"It's funny that we were talking about you too".

"Really?" Nasuada asked, lifting a brow as she lowered her hand, "I hope it was good".

"Eragon was trying to give me his advice which wasn't so good: you do not really strike me as a Romeo and Juliet type person".

"Oh no, I prefer 'A Winter's Tale': has a happier ending," she said as the past Murtagh grinned.

"Thank god… to tell you the truth, I hate Romeo and Juliet".

"I know, right-?"

"You two were a nice couple," Selena said as she and the older Murtagh took a step back as they watched the party, "Now why hadn't the two of you had any children?"

"We were too busy to have kids"

"Mm, true … But it's a shamed about what happened between the two of you…"

"I don't want to be reminded," Murtagh said as he watched himself and Nasuada talk happily, feeling his heart cringe.

"But it already happened… you have already survived it".

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I can survive it again".

"Thorn was there with you… I have noticed you have kept yourself away from him during Christmas time… You've had very good memories during other holidays but here," she said as she longingly looked at her son beside her.

"I've also never remember you ever being there for Christmas," he stiffly replied, causing her to flinch.

"Ah yes…," she said as they walked through the wall and entered another room, but this time they were at an apartment.

There was no Christmas tree to be found but there were Christmas cards taped to the hallway closet; the entire place was small yet there was warmth in the tiny place as there was in the apartment.

An older Nasuada stood with her arms crossed as she was glaring daggers at the oven as the door opened to a 24 year old Murtagh.

"Hey… what's up?" he asked as he took off his jacket while Nasuada gave him a look, "What?"

"Murtagh… I thought we spoke about it," she said as she shook her head, "Why did you accept it?"

"What do you mean?" the 24 year old asked stopped and stood his ground, before it hit him, "We need the money".

"No, Murtagh, we don't," she said as she stepped out of the kitchen but still had her arms crossed, "I don't care if we are on the streets: Urû'baen corporation is a soulless company, and you yourself said that! Yet you accepted the job offer".

"I accepted it so we don't have to depend on food stamps, change in the jar, or pawn any more of our furniture for money," Murtagh said as he furrowed his brow, "It was either ask for help, which I know neither of us want that or go into my bank account which I do not want to!

"You accept a heartless, unforgiving job over blood money?" she asked, or basically threw at him as she was gripping the table, "I would have preferred the latter!"

"You wouldn't understand," he hissed back, tightening his fists, "Your father didn't kill an entire family and turn around and give it to you so you can use it. I want to get rid of it but it won't erase the fact that it is blood money!"

"Like what you're going to do is any better? You are going to be just like your father-!" she accused him before stopping herself.

The past Murtagh froze, the look he gave was just like he was told that Tornac was alive but then died again before he replaced it with anger as he shook his head.

"No… I can take all of your insults but not that," he said, as anger seeped through his voice; she opened her mouth but he quickly cut her off, "You knew what he did, I told you, I _showed_ you what he did to me… and yet you tell me that I am _going to be like him?_"

"Murtagh, I-"

"It's over," he said as his shoulders slackened, "I am tired of worrying whether or not we will make it… I am tired of having success in front of me yet I cannot take it because what is in it… Nasuada… I was hoping you understood and that you would understand my choice but I guess not…"

"Murtagh… I am sorry…," she said as she knew it was already too late, "I respect your choice… but that doesn't change my opinion… Are you sure you want to do this? We're being too hasty and-"

"No, if I am going to supposedly become my father, then I wouldn't want you to eat your own words," he said as he turned back to the door, "I am going back to my office".

She said nothing as he closed the door, and soon after she covered her face and let out a few dry sobs.

"Murtagh…," Selena said as the older Murtagh stood passively beside her.

"I still wonder how you can stomach looking at him after what he had done: I know I couldn't, which is why I still refuse to use the money... Once he died, the tabloids went crazy over it, dubbing him and others as 'Urû'baen's Killer Lawyers' which was quickly obliterated so that nobody knew that Urû'baen did anything 'dirty' secrets … and besides, it already happened," he said as he turned his back to the past, "Can we go back?"

Selena nodded as she guided him through the wall and soon they were back at his penthouse; Murtagh let out a sigh as he went back to the couch and sat in it, rubbing his forehead wearily.

"I know that what has happened is a lot to take in," she said as she walked over and lovingly touched his head, "but it wasn't to make you feel bad… you've had good times too and friends as well who miss you and that you should see again. Murtagh, I know I wasn't there for you when you needed me and I am sorry, and I know this marriage of yours was sudden but please don't do the mistakes I did…"

Murtagh looked up, frowning.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I wasn't there for you… I remember when you that your Nanny was your mom until you were told I was… I know you will be a better man than Morzan but do not do the mistake as to not being there for your child. I had to be told what you did in order to know what to talk to you about, and if you want this child then please be there for them".

Her eldest son digested what she said.

"What if I do not want to be a father?" he asked as she gave a small sigh.

"Then just divorce her, for she doesn't seem like the type of woman to put the baby up for adoption. It will be easier if you do it early before the baby is born…However if you decide to still be a father and continue to be married to her as well as keep continuing your behavior, do not come to them expecting to be welcomed by your child… You will always be considered an alien to them as well as there will always be an unwanted elephant in the room," she said as she bitterly smiled before bending over and kissing his brow before rising and smiling down at him, "I have to leave you now, but I will always be with you… the next ghost will be here at two".

"Mom…," Murtagh said to her, causing her to tilt her head, "I missed you".

She smiled, mouthing 'I love you' before she disappeared.


	36. Christmas Special Part 3

I liked watching Scrooged that stared Bill Murry and I especially liked the ghosts in the movie like the Taxi driver ghost of Christmas Past, the childishly happy yet punch-happy fairy/ ghost of Christmas of Christmas Present and the ever so quiet Ghost of Christmas Future with the cool TV face.

And no, I will not be doing Ajihad as either ghost.

Ughhh I have such terrible teeth...

Restrained. Freedom- Why of course not: It's so easy to do that. And Selena is an person to put as Christmas Past and it is a lot better than Morzan

I do not own the Inheritance cycle, but this and the next chapter are very long. Bare with me: I didn't want this to be no more than 4 chapters. Tee-hee. But what the hey-hey, have three chapters

* * *

Christmas Special 3

He looked at his watch which read 1:15, which he wearily rubbed his eyes.

'Screw it… I must be going crazy,' he thought before he stopped himself, 'But all of it felt so real…'

He closed his eyes which to him felt like a few minutes before he smelt smoke.

Instantly his eyes shot open and he jumped up; he looked about and then turned to see a rather old man sitting on the couch smoking on a carved wooden pipe while wearing an olive green jacket, worn jeans, hiking boots and a wool scarf tied around his neck.

"What are you-"

"No, I am not a hobo," the old man said he cocked his head to the side, "And I am the second ghost, which you know as the ghost of Christmas present".

"But that doesn't really explain who you know. I was told I was supposed to somewhat know you?"

"Ah yes," the older man said as he rose up and blew small puffs of smoke out of his pipe before continuing, "I am Brom, your old college professor and-"

"Eragon's father, yeah, I know you".

"You should also know that I hate being cut off too," Brom said as he blew a cloud of smoke into Murtagh's face.

"Do you have to smoke in here?" Murtagh asked as Brom simply scoffed at him.

"Give me a break: I rarely smoke as it is since I am dead and the less you complain, the quicker this will be," the bearded man said as he snapped his fingers and instantly they were in a living room, "Walla! better?"

The sky blue walled, wooden paneled floor living room was rather small with a comfortable couch with a large window behind it and a very thick rug in front of the comfy couch with the a Christmas tree nearest to the front door and a small fire place on the other side of the room.

"Let me guess, Eragon's party?"

"Ah, how did you guess?" Brom asked sarcastically, lifting a brow as a rather chubby girl with wavy reddish hair stomped passed them as she kicked a multicolored soccer ball with ease.

"Ismira?"

"Of course," the older man replied, "The apple of his eye: I doubt he could ever punish her".

"Why do you say that?" Murtagh asked as Brom chuckled and blew on his pipe.

"Supposedly she beat up a bunch of fifth graders just because they weren't sharing the swing set".

"Oh really? What did Roran do?"

"Scold her in front of the teacher and Katrina while giving her an ice cream cone when he was going out to get groceries".

Murtagh smirked and somewhat scoffed yet it didn't surprise him as another kid with reddish brown hair and twinkling eyes. The gray eyed man knew who the kid was her younger brother, Garrow, who was the same build as her yet was 5 years old; he was supposedly a big baby, bigger than Ismira.

"I want to play with it!" he whined as he plodded after her.

"I wouldn't be surprised if Katrina had twins the next time she's pregnant," The gray eyed man said to the ghost as he saw the two leave the room.

"You'd be surprised," Brom remarked as they left and Saphira came in, a blonde with electric blue eyes and was the second oldest of Galbatorix's adopted children sat on the couch with Angela, a quirky woman who owned her herbal shop, was knitting.

"Do you smell smoke?" Saphira asked, wrinkling her nose as she looked around, "Smells kinda familiar…"

"It would depend," The short woman replied as she looked over to the wavy haired woman, "The cooking or the old man?"

"Old man?" the blonde asked, furrowing her brow as she looked around, "What do you mean?"

"She can see us?" Murtagh asked Brom, who replied with a shrug, "for a ghost, you seem a bit oblivious".

"Well pardon me for being forced to 'help' you," the older man said as Angela gave a small snorting laugh.

"You can be weird sometimes," Saphira said as she turned on the TV.

"Let's move to the other rooms, shall we?"

Murtagh followed him to see Nasuada, Orrin, Orik, Islanzadí, and Arya standing around the table, talking as Eragon stood to the side with a phone to his ear; he looked disappointed as he got off the phone.

"What's the matter?" Islanzadí asked as it was apparent that everyone knew what he was going to say.

"Ah, it's nothing".

"Again?" Orrin asked as he rolled his eyes, "When are you going to stop?"

"Never," Orik said as he himself was almost laugh, "Chin up, Eragon, why should you be so surprised? This isn't the first"

"Or the last," Orrin added with a few people giving him a short glare before turning to Eragon.

Murtagh could feel the disappointment in the air.

"And let's not forget those countless phone calls, emails and even notes," Brom remarked as he slapped Murtagh on the back of his head.

"Right, I feel your pain," the gray eyed man remarked, slightly rubbing the back of his head.

"Eragon, just get over him and enjoy the party," Nasuada said as she sighed and smiled, "Not much to cry over other than wasting a few moments crying over him".

"Still sour?" Arya said as titled her head to the side, causing a few people to laugh.

"I'm over him, it was a little thing and it was stupid".

"Now you've lost him to a much younger girl," Eragon said as his disappointment washed away.

"She's nice but she is kinda spineless," Nasuada replied shrugging, "I feel sorry for her being with him or even being around him".

"Murtagh does seem to have a pole up his ass," Arya sighed before Orik added, "Makes you wonder how the girl became pregnant".

A few people laughed but Eragon shrugged good naturedly.

"Even though my brother can be an asshole, but he is a nice guy, and Freyja is a really sweet girl".

"Makes you wonder what their kid is going to be like," Angela said over the crowd as again people laughed, while a few others like Eragon and Nasuada just smiled.

Katrina hurried out of the kitchen with her hands on her hips and her hair pulled back.

"Eragon, go out and stop Roran from having yet another wrestling match with the one of the Urgals: dinner is almost ready and I would hate for someone to go to the Hospital," she said with a rather firm authority as other snickered.

"Okay, will do," Eragon chirped as he jogged out of the room happily.

"And what did I see here?"

"Kid, you're blind".

"From what the doctor told me, I have 20/20 vision," Murtagh retorted, dodging Brom's hand.

"So we have to go to spy on another person?" The older man rhetorically asked as he gave a sigh and snapped his fingers; instantly they were in a Chinese restaurant, where Freyja and Thorn were sitting at a corner booth, "Well, here are your wife and your friend".

"Looks like he was telling the truth," Murtagh smirked as he looked over to see that Brom was giving him a stink eye.

"It appears you did not go," Brom said as he smoked his pipe, "I think he wanted you to be here but sadly you are not here in the flesh".

"Are you sure you want to be here?" Thorn said, giving her a goofy smile.

"I do…," she replied, giving Thorn a warm smile, "I was kinda hoping that… you know…"

"Don't mind Murtagh, he is usually this distant this time of year… I can't blame him but he just creates this… you know".

"Wall," the blonde said nodded, "But I can understand with me but with you…"

"He's had his fair share of heartache, and I am kinda afraid that if I try, I would push him away".

She nodded as she sipped her drink.

"You know… I know a lot of people have asked you think but… why did Saphira hurt you?"

Thorn looked at her and was about to say something before stopping himself for a moment and then said, "I told her that I liked her".

"And she stabbed your arm?" Freyja asked clearly baffled.

"We had a pretty confusing life, there were four of us and we were somewhat normal but yet we knew we weren't your cookie cutter 'rich' family. So the three of us (You haven't met Fírnen yet) stuck together and ever since we have been together for years; I decided to you know, 'drop the ball'," Thorn laughed as he rubbed his neck, "I know it sounds pretty weird to even consider liking or even to be in love with an adopted sibling but you know… well she was somewhat understanding".

"Love is awkward," she replied shrugging.

"And to put insult into injury Saphira and Fírnen are together and have been for quite a while," The red head said as he rubbed the back of his head, "It's hard getting over it but I'm surviving… so how about you? I am sure a lot of people always wondered why you were even sleeping with Murtagh much less get pregnant with his child to begin with, which I definitely know you are not using him for his money".

"Ah that…," she said as she somewhat blushed; they said nothing as the waitress came by with their food, which they thanked and as the waitress left Freyja continued, "It's a pretty hard to explain… Well, to begin with I was once seeing a guy before Murtagh… Gabriel, and don't worry, I am not seeing him because of complication".

"Complication?"

"He's dead".

"Ooh," Thorn said somewhat embarrassed, "Sorry".

"It was … a month before the party and I was still down and my Daddy thought it would cheer me up-"

"'Daddy'?" Murtagh asked as Brom rolled his eyes.

"Some people still call their fathers those particular names," Brom remarked as he shot Murtagh a look, "Now shut it and listen".

"-Needless to say, I am not like my sisters so I didn't know how to hit on a guy and well..."

"Who else but a drunken Murtagh to appear," Thorn chuckled before he ate some of his coconut shrimp, "If you were not good at meeting a guy then how did you and Gabriel-?"

"He and I went to the same private school".

"Ooh, okay".

"So after we left the bar, we walked to the nearest hotel and well… you know".

"You guys walked?"

"He made it very apparent that he didn't want to drive…,"She explained before somewhat giggling and then sighing.

"So why didn't you use protection? That tends to avoid things like this…?" Thorn asked as she shrugged.

"It was somewhat the heat of the moment and before I tried many times… I mean many, _many_ times to get pregnant when I was with my old boyfriend and so when Murtagh took me to the hotel… I guess I took advantage of him".

Thorn somewhat choked on his drink while Brom harrumph and Murtagh rubbed his forehead.

"Jesus," the gray eyed man muttered as Freyja turned a deep shade of red as Thorn recovered.

"Well, I guess this is how you will ever get laid since it was likely that you were going to spend your life as a hermit," Brom cheerfully said as the younger man glared at him.

"She did not rape me".

"You're right…," The dead old man said as a gravely nodded, "You cannot rape the willing".

"I know it sounds selfish and…" Freyja coughed as Thorn took a few deep breathes.

"Ah, no it's uh, it's okay, but why Murtagh? You could have picked anyone else but him".

"He was willing and seemed so interested in me… Like I said, I am not good at flirting, I lost Gabriel a month before and… and oh god I am such a terrible person...!" Freyja whimpered as she began to cry.

Thorn snapped up, awkwardly looking around at the people looking their way, which he knelt beside Freyja and tried to calm her down.

"No, it's okay, I've met my fair share of bad people before and you are not a bad person," Thorn said in a low voice as Freyja wiped her eyes on her clean napkin, "You are a really nice person and you're going to be a very good mother-"

"I always wanted to me a mom," the pregnant woman said as she tried her best to remain calm but was tearing up, "I wanted to be a house wife, with a kid or two and a dog and…and all those times I tried again and _again_ and I never thought I would be pregnant"

He rubbed her shoulder and softly spoke to her as the bearded ghost shook his head.

"I've seen desperate women like that before… they tend to pick the wrong men because they want to have that dream so much: just like your mother," Brom casually said, causing Murtagh to look the dead man's way, "Oh she was really was happy when I met up with them many times before but the only time I ever saw her truly light up when she was with your bastard of a father was when she was pregnant with you".

"She did?"

"Oh yes, and while she was always beaming whenever she was around me, she never shown as bright as she was pregnant, whenever she was around or when she talked about either of you. She loved the two of you and happily bragged about the two of you and enjoyed the things you gave her… I remember she always kept that macaroni necklace you made her for mother's day".

Murtagh looked down and silently listened.

"I think she felt sad for not being with you most of the time," Brom replied, sighing as well but then he straightened up, "Oh well, time to go… unless you know someone else you want to spy on".

"You're the one to talk," A voice came from behind them, causing the two to turn to see the short and corkscrewed hair Angela who was still knitting.

"Do you mind?" Brom snapped as the tiny woman scoffed at him.

"Pah-lease, don't get so defensive, Mr. Obi-wan," Angela said as she rolled her eyes at the bearded man, "I doubt you can even haunt me, because I know a thing or two to ward off ghosts!"

"Don't start with me woman, I-"

"Can you do this later?" Murtagh asked the two, now feeling slightly uncomfortable as he watched Thorn and Freyja hug, "Like when we are not here?"

"Oh, look at that," the cork screw haired woman cooed as she stopped knitting, "I know Thorn is a good friend, but it is your place to comfort her _at least_".

"What's that supposed to mean?" The gray eyed man demanded as she shrugged him off.

Brom snapped his fingers as the three of them appeared in the pent house yet again which again had the faint smell of pipe smoke.

"Do you mind?" Murtagh asked which Brom didn't seem to mind at all but Angela snatched his pipe, "Thank you, but what did you mean by-"

"Seriously Brom! We have a pregnant woman here! Why else did you think Selena asked you to not smoke around her when she was pregnant with Eragon?" Angela scolded as she left the living room.

Brom rolled his eyes and sighed as he sat down on the couch.

"This is really comfy," Brom remarked as he casually relaxed himself, "Was this yours to begin with?"

"No, Freyja was the one who brought when she moved," Murtagh said as he looked at his watch which read 2:45.

"What Murtagh?"

He jumped, looking to see if Brom was still on the couch, which the ghost wasn't; the gray eyed man turned to his wife who stood rubbing her eyes and slightly stretching.

"What's the matter Freyja?"

"It sounded like you talking to someone".

Murtagh took what his mother and Brom said and remembered what she said as she just wanted to be a mother and that she simply used him.

Granted, it seemed unfair that she forced him and that if it was not for her, he wouldn't be married, but it was his fault as well. He let himself drink and if he remembered corrected, he was the one who suggested going to the hotel to begin with; and if he remembered correctly, he also had a condom on himself somewhere.

"I was talking to myself…that's all".

"Do you need anything?" she asked as she took a step back, but Murtagh stopped her.

"No, I am fine… you should go to back to bed," he said as he walked over to her and touched her shoulder, which somewhat surprised her.

"Oh…okay… Are you going to bed as well?"

"Sure," he muttered as he followed her down hallway and into their room; Freyja didn't have the lights on, so it took them a few minutes to get to the bed and into it.

It was a matter of minutes before he heard Freyja fall asleep, yet he couldn't fall asleep as easily as she did.

There was one last ghost to go, and after what happened, he felt confused, frustrated, and just plain violated. So many people have been in his house without him knowing; he should have bought a better lock or ask Angela to get a ward to keep ghosts away.

'_Angela is still here… or she might be…_,' Murtagh thought to himself as he slowly got up and left the room and began to look through the guest room and bathroom, his office, and was about to go to the living room before he heard something in the kitchen.

He sighed as he entered and saw that the pipe was in the sink, yet there was no Angela.

The gray eyed man looked around in the kitchen and then reached the living room where there was no-one except a list which was apparently a list of people's name with what appeared to be gifts that were supposed to be for them.

It took him a split second before he knew what it meant.

"That's funny," he muttered as he heard the window howl and everything became black.

The suddenly warm apartment became frigid and it took a minute or so for him to blink away the darkness.

He looked about through the darkness, swearing that there heating was on but then reminded himself who this was and what this meant.

Cautiously he walked to the door and checked the front door and checked to see if there was a ghost would appear, but there was no-one on the couch and no-one at the door.

'_Where could this ghost be_?' he thought as he walked down the hall and then noticed how it suddenly became colder and soon as he past his bedroom, he froze as he saw his breathe.

Entering the room, he saw Freyja alive (for he saw her breathe) and that she was asleep, apparently not affected by the cold; looking about Murtagh stopped at the foot of the bed to see a figure in the corner of the room.


	37. Christmas Special Part 4

The last of the christmas special. Whoooo It is soooo late... but I do not care!

I do not own The Inheritance Cycle, but if I did, I would add in Aliens

* * *

Christmas Special 4

"Who are you?" he asked in a hushed voice, afraid that he would wake her.

"I am the one who is supposed to show you what will become if you continue your ways," a cool scholar-like voice came from the figure and instantly Murtagh knew who it was.

"Oromis…?"

"The one and the same," the figure replied as he took a step from the corner and his features bled through the darkness.

Oromis wore a suit of entire white minus his tie: white slacks, a double breasted jacket, pure white dress shirt and black tie as he had his long white hair pulled; he looked like a ghost itself by how grave he looked though his eyes of understanding betrayed his cold exterior.

Murtagh never spoken to the man personally and the only time he had ever met him was on a very difficult case; the older man was very strong in his statements and very to the point. It was very hard to go against him, and it got to the point that Galbatorix had to butt in order to win the case.

Needless to say, it did not go as planned, despite Murtagh winning it, but the night after, Oromis was found dead in his home, which looked like a seizure but there were speculations against it.

The gray eyed young man wanted to talk to the older man when they were not in the courtroom but needless to say it was never going to happen until now; he had learned later on that Eragon had the luck of having him as a mentor and close friend.

"I already know, and I've already been told… I don't have to see what will happen in the future," Murtagh assured but the older man seemed unwavering.

"No… even if you have said you have seen it all: you have not. Come, I know this has been a very stressful night for you, and once this is over, you will have peace of mind… come on," the silver haired man said as he guided Murtagh out of the room and into the hall.

It seemed as they stood at the end, the hallway itself began to stretch to the point that the other end looked like a mile away.

"While your mother and Brom have brought you out of the house, I will make sure to keep you here," The older man said as they began to walk slowly down the black hall.

At first the walls were bare but slowly pictures began to show up: some were vacation-like photos that were of random locations like a beach, a forest, possibly Paris, Russia, and England and others that looked like were done by a fairly good amateur. There was even the occasional postcard or two from those places with a dollar or so from that place.

"Thorn must have taken those pictures," Murtagh said as Oromis nodded, "but what about the post cards?"

"He sent them to Freyja whenever the two of you were traveling," the older man explained as he then added, "Freyja would become weaker as the time went by, so she had to stay home".

"She always had a habit of getting sick sometime…," Murtagh said as he combed his mind the few times when he would come home to see her on the couch or in bed sleeping with a trashcan, a box of tissues, and plastic medicine boxes faithfully near.

Murtagh was about to say something before he noticed a picture of tired Freyja wearing a hospital gown and cap; she looked like a mess but she had a very proud smile on her face as she held a sleeping red faced baby with dark brown hair.

"Is that…?"

"Your son: Mordred, he was 7 pounds and 14 ounces and was born on time on a rainy April morning".

"Was…," Murtagh asked as his voice slightly trailed off before continuing, "Was I there?"

"You weren't. You were supposedly off at a business trip".

"What? Even if he was an accident, I would have at least gone… he's my son".

Oromis shook his head with a sad frown.

"Mind you, this would happen if Tornac hadn't asked for help to change you. Now since you have seen your past and soon your present, you shall see look upon your future with hopefully new eyes".

Murtagh nodded as he did feel different as he learned and looked at the future through photos.

They continued to walk as not only post cards and pictures of places were framed changed but newer pictures were added: during the beginning months, Mordred was always held by someone like Freyja, who truly did beam, Thorn who looked like an uncle, and even Galbatorix almost seemed like a grandfather as he held the Mordred as he read a book while the baby slept on his shoulder (which somewhat dampened Murtagh's mood). A rare photo of Eragon managed to find its way onto the wall as he and Mordred looked at the camera, but while his uncle smiled, Mordred looked at the photo with wide eyed curiosity.

"I wasn't there again?" Murtagh asked as Oromis simply shook his head again.

"No, you simply did not acknowledge him as your son: he was another boy to you".

"That can't be true," The gray eyed man insisted yet as Oromis said nothing, the younger man took that as a bad sign, "Did I truly become a bastard?"

"It would depend on how you would look at it: you were abused and neglected by your parents, your ex-fiancé accused you of becoming a monster because you wanted a better life, and you were forced into this marriage by a woman who merely using you for a baby. You do have some excuse to act this way".

Oromis spoke the truth yet Murtagh hated to admit that the older man was right.

The two passed a picture of a rather nice red-bricked colonial house that overlooked a rocky beach, with pure white window and roof trimming.

"Where is this?" he asked, pointing to it as they stopped by the first door.

"That will your new house that is away from the city and by the Anora Lake. Thorn wanted you closer, but you preferred being away; don't worry, there is a small fishing town near by".

"Didn't Freyja have anything to say about this?"

"She was too eager to please you; she still felt guilty for forcing you to get her pregnant, so she basically did anything you wanted".

The raven haired man's mouth dried slightly as he spotted a picture of picture of Freyja by herself but her appearance changed: looking somewhat sick despite wearing a brightly floral she was sitting on a log in the rocky beach. Yet beside it there was another picture of her holding Mordred's chubby fingers with her own hands as he stood tall with a big grin; in that photo she had a healthy glow radiating around her.

He stopped at a particular photo: in this one he saw himself sleeping on an easy chair with his feet propped up on a footrest with his son sleeping on his legs.

"Who is taking the photos by the way?"

"Thorn mostly took them and some were taken by Freyja… most of the time you were in your office or taking walks; you made it very apparent that you did not want to be 'disturbed'," Oromis said as they looked into first dark walled room, "Here is your child's third Christmas"

A child with light brown locks sat cross legged beside a large window with as he opened a boxed present and took out a stuffed rabbit as a toy brachiosaurus stood beside him in the midst of wrapping paper.

He grinned happily as he moved the box away and held the rabbit in his small hands.

"I got that from Italy," A voice said as instantly Thorn materialized sitting beside Mordred as the child looked over to him, "I thought a bear would be a little cliché".

"Where's that?" Mordred asked as Freyja appeared walking into the room, coughing slightly as she reached them, "Mama, do we have a Globe?"

"Maybe," Freyja replied as their son gave her a toothy grin.

"Of course you do," a sickeningly smooth voice came from behind her; Mordred placed the rabbit beside his dinosaur toy and got up and rushed past Freyja and hugged the legs of Galbatorix, "Merry Christmas Mordred".

"Hello Papi," Mordred sung as the older man knelt beside the boy.

Murtagh saw that while Freyja was smiling Thorn had a worried frown on his face.

"Now did you say an atlas or a Globe?"

"I did… which do you have one?" the child asked as he noticed Galbatorix was holding something behind his back.

The old yet still young looking man knelt beside him and brought his arm around and gave the child a wrapped globe.

"Uh… 'Dad', can I please talk with you?"

"Why of course, Thorn".

"Alone?" The red head said as Mordred was happily holding a globe in one hand and the wrapping paper in the other.

"Thank you Papi," he happily said as he hurried over to Freyja show her what he got.

"This'll only take a minute," Thorn said as he got up and with Galbatorix, walked out of the room.

Murtagh followed him with Oromis following him until they were in a pitch black hall with only a window that was behind the two that served as light.

"Shruikan isn't here, is he?" Thorn asked in a low voice, clearly worried.

"Now why would you ask that?" the older man purred, clearly acting clueless.

"Because the last kid he was around winded up getting a broken arm and now has to use a wheel chair to get around".

"That was a mere accident… and besides, children should listen, because I remember he asked the child to leave him alone".

"Then what of the maids? They try their best to avoid him but always wind up with a broken finger, nose, and even a broken jaw" Thorn challenged, this time getting a spark of emotion from Galbatorix's smiling mask.

"Need you bring _that_ up?"

"I'm sorry, but I do not want Freyja or Mordred to be hurt because he wants to hurt them".

"If I didn't know any better, it would seem that you are trying to be a husband and father," the older man stated, causing Thorn to instantly back off, "I see… that would be so terrible to learn that Freyja is having an affair, because I heard her father disowned his youngest son because he had one".

"Of course she wouldn't cheat on Murtagh".

Galbatorix studied his adopted son's expression and lifted a brow.

"So this is you are trying to be a surrogate father then?"

Thorn said nothing but crossed his arms and looked down.

"They're not your family, you are simply a friend of Murtagh's," Galbatorix said in an iron-like voice that caused Thorn and even Murtagh to flinch, "You have no right to tell me who should be around Freyja or Mordred, and I have every right to keep you from them".

Thorn's head shot up, while his face was perfectly passive, his eyes betrayed him.

"You wrote yourself as his guardian… didn't you? How-"

"I have my ways".

"Did Freyja or Murtagh allow this?"

"They do not even know it of course, and even if they did, there will be little they could do".

Thorn lowered his chin but he knew better as it seemed he was carefully choosing his answer.

"Eragon can".

"He only met the boy once, and from what I heard, the people he is with are unstable ever since I heard of the things they did".

"No… bullshit," Murtagh silently growled, knowing full well either his friend or Galbatorix couldn't hear him, "Eragon is a lot stable and safer than you are with a child".

"He is, but sadly, once you moved, you changed your phone number and ignored every email he had ever given you: you made took many steps to avoid him even contacting you or Freyja".

"This was a nice conversation," Galbatorix chirped as he seemed taller than Thorn, "Be sure to keep it to yourself and… as for your question, Shruikan isn't here: he told me that he had better things to do at home, but he is looking forward for you to _visit_".

Thorn shivered as the older man walked passed him and into the room where Freyja and Mordred were looking at the globe.

Murtagh watched as Thorn slowly collected himself and walked after Galbatorix with a tight smile.

"Thorn would have forced me to watch Mordred open his presents… "

"Your behavior has gotten worse: most of the time you have not left your office when you were on or off of a case and you managed to walk about the house being unseen. You ignore Freyja, you sometimes watch Mordred when he doesn't know it, and Thorn tries his best to get you to talk to talk to them".

A bitter taste filled Murtagh's mouth as Oromis guided him through the dark hall where they yet again had appeared into the hallway with the photos.

They continue to walk down the hall where the photos became of Mordred growing with Freyja kneeling happily beside him; there were a few pictures of Freyja now and then but it looked like she was getting sicker and thinner. Beside each picture were hand drawn pictures by a child which Murtagh knew were by his son as well as handprints and even a report card with good scores.

"His first report card?"

"Mordred is a bright child, and as you had seen the last picture, he wants to travel the world".

"Why am I ignoring them?"

"From what I gathered, you consider it a chore to learn about Mordred or even talk to Freyja".

Murtagh bit his lip as he frowned at how Freyja was slowly wasting away in the pictures where she was by herself.

"Isn't she getting help?" He asked as they stopped by another doorway.

"She never wanted to be a burden".

Murtagh looked into the room to see Freyja having a coughing fit which sounded like a she was coughing out a lung as she held a tissue to her mouth; Mordred, apparently 6 years old, sat beside her, staring at her with almost pure white eyes as he waited for her to stop coughing.

When she did, it appeared she had blood on her tissue, she then stuffed it into her pocket.

"Mom…," The boy said as it appeared he saw the blood on her tissue, "Is Thorn going to be here?"

"In the afternoon," she smiled, as she leaned over and pulled him into chest and held him close to her; she rocked back and forth as she rubbed his back and was apparently singing in Middle Eastern before saying to him, "Don't worry… he'll be here, baby".

"And he will, but with a sprang wrist and black eye," Oromis said as his eyes slanted.

"Shruikan?" Murtagh asked, already knowing the answer but wanted to hear it from another.

"Yes".

"Why isn't Thorn urging her to go to the hospital?" Murtagh urged as Oromis looked at him and his icy mask became compassionate.

"She kept pushing it off, and while Mordred also urged her, she kept saying 'tomorrow'" the dead man explained as they passed the doorway and went down the hallway, where the photos became sparse as yet another door appeared, "That tomorrow never came… and she paid dearly for putting it off".

Mordred was now 7 and wore a black suit by the same large window that he and Freyja were at during Christmas; Murtagh knew that attire and knew what happened as déjà vu hit him.

"Hey M.T.," Thorn said as he walked to the younger boy and looked out the window, "How are you holding up?"

"M.T.?" Murtagh asked as his eyes never left his son.

"His middle name was Tornac," Oromis explained as he kept his eyes on the two in the room, "Thorn thought would be rather nice and also thought it was funny how it sounded like 'Empty'".

Murtagh wanted to snort at his friend's quirky sense of humor but couldn't.

"I could be better…"

"I know kid…" the red head said as he knelt down to him and held his hand, "I heard that you're going to live with Galbatorix".

"_What_?" Murtagh nearly yelled as he stumbled back, like he was punched in the stomach.

"I am… Thorn, did Murtagh ever like my mom?"

Thorn tried to think of something but Mordred cut him off.

"I know I was an accident, but if he didn't love her, then why did she ever stay with him?"

"She wanted you to be happy and she didn't want to go through the legal battle".

The child sighed as his arms slumped.

"I wish she should have, and then at least I wouldn't mistake you as my dad when I was two".

"You'll never let yourself live it down, would you?" Thorn asked, slightly amused.

"I just want to know who my dad is and see him there rather than having to be reminded who he is and keep reminding myself that I have two parents".

Thorn gently placed his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I know… I wish I can do something but are you sure about this? You know that I grew up at with him but… But it isn't what you think"

"I am, and I know you did not live in ease…. But what could you do? There is little you can legally do and if Murtagh wanted to, he could have at least put you as my legal guardian if he did care".

"He cares, it's just that-"

"Thorn, if I wanted to hear an excuse for him, I would rather have him say it rather than someone else making it for him," Mordred replied, causing Thorn's smile to falter.

"What about Eragon?"

This time Mordred faltered and looked down.

"What about him?" the child muttered as Thorn sighed and pushed a little further.

"I know he would be more than happy to look after you if you want: you have cousins who would be more than happy to be friends with you. I heard that you even wanted to go to public school: a far cry from those very high brow teachers. I am more than sure that Eragon would be glad to do that and more".

"He wouldn't like me".

"He would be more than happy to look after you: he would spoil you even more; I know Murtagh did not spend time with you but Eragon is different. I know him and I know that you would like him too: he would probably consider you a son being how he doesn't have any kids…"

"I was told…"

Thorn lowered his chin, and by his expression, he knew who told this boy the lies.

"What were you told?"

"I was told that he hates Murtagh and that when he heard about me, he didn't want anything to do with me. Especially the woman he is friends with: she is emotionally unstable and that the she stabbed your arm because you wanted to talk with her".

"Galbatorix?"

The boy merely nodded.

"Please, Mordred, reconsider, Eragon doesn't hate you; I think he would be more than happy to look after you-"

"There you are Thorn, Mordred," Galbatorix said in such a mournful voice as he entered the room, causing Thorn to grow rigid and stand up, "I was looking for you two, especially you Mordred…"

The child gave one last look at Thorn and gave the older man's hand a good squeeze before letting go of the red head's hand and walked over to the old man and hugged him, putting his face into Galbatorix's coat pocket as the old man put his hand lovingly on the boy's light brown hair.

"I am so sorry about your mother… she was such a nice woman: she was a real saint and had a very big heart… I know it seems a little morbid to have her funeral on Christmas, but you and I knew that she loved the holiday," Galbatorix cooed as Mordred nodded, not even looking up; the old pinned Thorn with his gaze, who in turn looked down and moved slightly back as he continued, "Are you ready?"

"I want to go into her bedroom… one last time please…" Mordred muttered as the old man softly patted his head.

"Okay then, you may: take your time".

The boy quickly rushed out of the room, which left Galbatorix and Thorn alone; the old man stepped over to Thorn and smacked his head, causing the red head to flinch and step back.

"_What were you doing?_ Filling his head with an uncle who doesn't know where he is?" Galbatorix demanded as he didn't raise his voice; he then cuffed Thorns ear and caused the red head to go on his knees, "Don't you like Mordred? Because you're giving me the impression that you no longer want to see him again… which would be so terrible because I am sure he would miss you despite having Shruikan with him".

"Please don't," Thorn urged as he kept his own voice low, "Please don't do that to him, you and I know he wouldn't last long; he doesn't know what Shruikan is like when there is no one around".

"Tut, Tut, Thorn, you should remember what you tell when you talk to the boy again".

"No more…" Murtagh muttered as his expression soured, "No more… I do not want to know what will happen next…"

"Very well… The life of your son and Thorn will only crumble as you kept to yourself"

They walked from the room and they were now at the end of the hall, which became short again with all of the photos missing. Neither Oromis nor the younger man said anything as they entered the bedroom where Freyja was sleeping soundly; Murtagh stopped as he looked down at Freyja, seeing her hapless fate.

"Will she die?"

"She may or may not, for in the future you saw, she wasted away as you simply ignored her and did nothing but it could change".

"So that future can be changed," Murtagh stated as he felt an odd singe of hope fill him.

Oromis walked over to the younger man and placed his hand on the living man's shoulder and gave him a rare smile.

"The future changes for all of us: whether it is for the better or for the worse. Some of us look forward for it while others are afraid of it, and often times the future is taken for granted, but you have so much in store for you," Oromis said warmly as he put his cold hand over Murtagh's eyes and soon the younger man's vision blurred and darkened.

Quickly he opened his eyes and shot up from what appeared to be his bed; he looked over to see that the blankets were kicked aside, which probably explained his coldness.

Murtagh then got out of bed, after seeing Freyja out of bed; he went to the kitchen and saw her putting the eggs on the counter.

He calmed walked over to the table and sat down, causing her to jump.

"Oh, you're up early," she said slightly holding her chest, "You gave me somewhat of a fright".

"You're not the only one," he muttered as he looked down but then back to her.

"You seem to have seen a ghost," she said, as she went down and brought up a bowl, "Did you have a nightmare?"

He shrugged as she also brought out a pan; they were quiet as she took out other things and soon began to make breakfast. As she was done, she placed a plate, silverware, a cup of juice and coffee in front of him and then went to get her own, he then spoke to her as she sat down, putting down her plate and drink.

"I was thinking…," he said, as she looked up, "About going to Eragon's for a little bit and have dinner with Thorn".

"Then I'll just call my brother and-"

"No, you come with me, I need someone I actually know when I am at Eragon's house," Murtagh said, knowing it was a somewhat lame excuse but she didn't seem to mind as she smiled at him, "And I know Thorn would like you there as well".

Her smile widened like a child was given the present they always wanted.

"You… Mean it?"

"I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't".

She gave an uneasy yet happy sigh as he couldn't help but slightly grin.

"I… "

"You shouldn't have to worry about it," He remarked as she stared at him as he began to eat, "You better eat: you'll need it".

"Yes… of course," she replied, somewhat unsure but she still smiled.

Once breakfast was done and such, Murtagh did some very last minute shopping (Angela seemed to have listed all the shops still open) and with Freyja's help they wrapped up most of them before stuffing the rest in bags with tissue.

They made it to the Eragon's party, much to the surprise of everyone.

"You came," Eragon said before repeating it while laughing, "You actually came".

"Never thought you would come to begin with," Saphira added as Murtagh rolled his eyes at her comment.

"Glad to prove you wrong".

"Hey Murtagh," Nasuada said as he turned to her; before he would have felt awkward and angry, but now he felt both awkward and forgiving.

"Hey Nasuada," He replied as he handed her his gift, "How's it going?"

"Been better, but I guess it would be perfect if you and Galbatorix would stop wrecking our plans".

"It's my job to be a pain in the ass to you, you know?"

She gave give him smile, which he smirked back as she held a black berry.

"Now how did you know I needed a new one?" she asked as her smile remained on her face, "I accidently drowned my last one but the only ones who knew it were-"

"A canary told me".

"A canary you say?" Angela said as she appeared in between them, "Why not a sparrow? Or a Mocking bird? Why a canary?"

Nasuada lifted a brow at what Angela said as Murtagh shrugged; Eragon walked up to them and held up Brom's pipe.

"How did you get a hold of this? I was looking for it!"

"Now that's a secret!" Angela said to Eragon with a solemn look.

Murtagh scoffed and looked over to see Freyja talking with Katrina and a few other women; but as he looked over back to Nasuada and Eragon, he hit the floor hard.

Needless to say Orik was still sore and the mere sight of Murtagh being there didn't help any but the fight lasted for only 4 minutes with no serious injuries.

When everyone was able to get them apart, the party went well; the only down side to it seemed when Murtagh and Freyja had to leave.

Thorn called and told them that they would have to go to a Denny's after all (the 50's Diner was closed as was the Tex-Mex, and the Chinese was closed due to safety regulations) which Murtagh nor Freyja didn't seem to mind.

As Eragon walked them out to their car, small flakes of snow was slowly falling down.

"I didn't get to ask you guys but when are you due, Freyja?"

"April more or less," Murtagh said, quickly cutting her off; she didn't mind but she as well as Eragon were surprised.

"How did you know?" Freyja asked as the gray eyed man shrugged.

"Huh… well I'll be sure to keep that in mind. I have been there for every birth and I intend to continue it," Eragon said, rather proud of the fact.

"When will we be expecting you to have a son or daughter?" Freyja sheepishly asked, which Eragon replied without missing a beat, "Soon hopefully"

"If he keeps chasing after Arya, it will be a very long while," Murtagh remarked, which Eragon lightly punched his older brother's arm, "I think I might do a New Year's party… just might".

"Then I'll definitely come," Eragon said with a large smile.

They said good bye and left; Murtagh sometimes looked over at his wife to see her smiling and then back at the road until they finally reached Denny's.

Thorn was waiting for them, or rather Freyja, for he wasn't expecting Murtagh at all.

"You're here! I never really thought you would show, no offense," The red head said as Murtagh shrugged and gave him his present, "Oh geez… what happened? Charles Dickens showed up and made you meet up with three ghosts?"

"You can say that".

While they were seated in a booth, Thorn happily opened it and found it was a DVD set.

"You're a John Wayne fan?" Freyja asked as Thorn happily looked at it from front to back.

"I enjoyed watching his movies growing up, and even wanted to be like him".

"You're going to have to work on that accent of yours as well as your hair," Murtagh joked as Thorn scoffed while smiling, "What did Freyja get you?"

"A leg lamp, you know, like from the Christmas Story?"

"Why not a rifle?" Murtagh asked as Thorn laughed.

"I prefer the leg lamp".

"So what did you give her?" Thorn asked as Murtagh paused, but Freyja didn't seem to miss a beat.

"I already have mine, but to tell you the truth, I have mine to for you right here," she said as she handed Murtagh a small present, which he opened it and found it was a gift card, "I didn't know what you wanted and… well…"

"Ditto," Thorn added as he handed Murtagh another gift card, "You're a hard man to shop for sometimes".

"It's the thought that counts," Murtagh said shrugged as he placed the two cards into his wallet, "There is nothing more than I have ever wanted".

A feeling of somewhat inner peace hovered about them, and it was a fine Christmas.

. . . .

Ah-ha, it's over. A little before New Years and a little after; whatever. In the movie 'Santa Claus' with Tim Allen, his character in the beginning of the movie tries to make a Christmas dinner for his kid but fails because the turkey caught on fire; the kid asks that if they had to go to Denny's. He tries to go to a Mom and Pop's restaurant but sees that it is closed, so they eventually go to Denny's.


	38. On a magic carpet ride

I do not own the Inheritance cycle, _but A whole new world~_

* * *

Chapter 32

Practice is perfect

Freyja rubbed her eyes, feeling like someone was pushing down on her mind; she looked around but froze as she looked at the massive dragon she _was leaning on its side with its head right in front of her_.

The blonde let out a small cry which apparently the dragon heard as it opened its massive eye and slightly lifted its head.

"I should have introduced the two of you earlier," she heard her husband say from behind the dragon's head, "But at least you didn't scream".

Again the presence brushed her mind, but it was slightly gentler than how it had first approached her.

"Is… Is that?" She asked as she managed to stand up despite her legs shaking, slightly pointing to the dragon behind her.

"Yes Thorn: he was… a little excited when he met you and wanted to talk with you," Murtagh explained as he moved from behind Thorn's head and stood front of Freyja, "It was a little forward of him to even try it and as you know dangerous, so he will just let me talk for him".

Freyja frowned at what he said, which then Murtagh then elaborated.

"Thorn cannot speak like us so he communicates by using his mind," he said as she then nodded, "Did he say anything to you?"

"He… didn't say anything, I just… _felt_ him".

He nodded as Thorn let out a massive yawn, causing the blonde to quickly step back; the sight of his teeth as well as the size of his mouth was beyond frightening. The sight of this dragon remotely angered made her understand how Douglas felt when he was facing the dragon of the Varden.

"He won't hurt you," Murtagh said, interrupting her thoughts as he then took her wrist into his hand and pulled her a little closer to him, "Not unless you try to attack me".

"I…. attack you? I couldn't be able to do that"

"Then there is no reason to be afraid," he shrugged as Thorn gave a snort, which Murtagh translated to her as, "well, somewhat no reason: just because he wouldn't harm you doesn't make him any less dangerous, so do not believe he can't hurt you".

She nodded, and then tried to step past him, but he still held onto her wrist with a gentle yet firm grip.

"There is a reason why I ask for you to be here".

She frowned at what he said but then asked, "Then why am I here?"

"We will be traveling to Aroughs tomorrow," He replied as he let go of her wrist, "It will be faster and safer to travel on the back of Thorn than traveling on the back of a horse".

She looked at the dragon, remembering the dragon that Douglas described to her in her letter; she hoped that her own letter had reached him by now.

"Is it because of the dragon that is coming here?" She asked, and for the first time, she saw Murtagh look surprise; Thorn let out a small growl, which at first she thought was a threatening one but it sounded more of an acknowledgement.

"How did you know that?"

"Servants".

Murtagh looked to the side, calculating what to say before saying, "Yes… but unlike Thorn, the dragoness that will be here does not have any control: she will kill everything and anything".

"But why?"

"Her rider was taken from her," he said as his face become somber, "she looks for him even now, searching for him without a care until she has gotten him".

"Why is he gone then? If she is looking for him and is causing all of this destruction, then why not find him yourself?"

They were silent for a moment and all that was heard was Thorn's breathing; soon Murtagh spoke again, "I can't do that, even if I wanted to, it would be going against _Galbatorix_'s orders… There are things that are beyond us, but no matter, I need you ready to ride".

She frowned at what he said but followed him none the less to his dragon which he knelt with his back to her.

"Get on my back and hold on".

She nodded and did as he said, securely putting her arms around his chin as he rose up and skillfully climbed up the red dragon's back and when they were at the saddle, he carefully placed her down and allowed her to move in front on him with his hand at her waist and had it so she was in front of him.

They sat down and as he applied his belts to his knees, she held onto the saddle, her heart quickening as she was so high up; she then felt something go around her waist and tighten, causing her to let out a small yelp.

"Don't worry," he said as she looked over her shoulder, "This will prevent you from falling off".

"Falling off?" she asked, as her voice strained as he gave one last tug.

"Yes, falling off and running into Saphira, the dragoness coming this way, are one of the few things you would have to worry about when you are flying… It's safer and quiet in the sky; you can look down and feel almost at peace being in it sometimes," he explained, as if he was reciting a good dream.

'_Saphira_…?' she thought, somewhat digesting the name, but instead of feeling fear, the name sounded rather beautiful.

"Are you ready?" he asked, she merely nodded in return.

. . . .

She was taking it a lot better than he thought, despite how rigid she was at the saddle as Thorn took off and as they were gaining altitude, he could hear her heart beat.

_I_ _will have stay near to the city: neither you nor I can risk bumping into Saphira being so near._

'_Your right_,' Murtagh replied as they had finally reached an appropriate height just above the clouds, '_And with the ward Galbatorix casted upon that ring, I cannot cast any spells to protect her_'.

He looked down to her to see she was clinging on but she too looked down.

"What do you think?" he asked as he leaned forward to her ear.

She said nothing but let out a shaky sigh, which made him assume she was going to faint but instead she let out a small laugh.

Half of him wanted to see her face but he was content with the two of them not talking for it would have ruined the moment.

The air above was silent and the sun was shown above them as they gently glided above the sea of clouds. He rather liked how quiet it was despite her heart beating heavily or Thorn's own breathing and his wings heavily moving. Thorn must had felt his inner peace for he then began to hum as he leaned over to the side and allowed the tip of his wing to brush the cloud; he felt Freyja slightly slide but he held her close.

Thorn continued to hover for fifteen minutes or before Thorn returned to the roost where the rain had finally stopped and as they entered the great room, he helped her down.

As he looked at her, she was grinning from ear to ear and her eyes were very bright, like a child that was given a fine horse when all they asked for was just a mere pony.

"Would you be alright if we ride tomorrow?" He asked her, which she nodded earnestly.

"I am… Thank you Murtagh," she said before looking over to Thorn and giving him a tiny curtsy, "Thank you Thorn".

_A curtsy? Never received that before. _

"He thanks you for the curtsy; he has never received it before".

Her smile softened as she slightly looked down and then back to Murtagh, "I see… Can you please escort me to my chambers? You ordered Bergan away".

"Bergan?" Murtagh asked, the name slightly sounding strange but dismissed it.

"My servant with the one arm… he escorted me here and when he did, you ordered him away".

"Ah… so I did"

_Well, hop to it; we don't want her to walk alone and into someone's trap, would we?_

"Of course," Murtagh replied to both Freyja and Thorn, "I do not mind".


	39. What about horses?

No excuse for cereal: just me being lazy and not updating. Yeah, my mom had gotten to see Twilight: Breaking Dawn; I kinda have a love-hate relationship I guess. I was like: okay, I can overlook the sparkling, but I hate Bella, I could care less about Edward, eh on Jacob and I freakin' hate the ending of entire series. Oh my God: IF YOU GOING TO HAVE IT THAT THERE IS GOING TO BE A BIG FIGHT AND THERE ISN'T, THEN WHAT IS THE POINT IN DOING THAT!

But I can stand vampires stories without the overly cliché storyline: like Classic Dracula, Blade, Camilla, True Blood Vampires, and 30 Days of Night (the movie).

Restrained. Freedom- It's all good: Galbatorix is head of the Urû'baen company (I didn't want it to be called the Empire) and I have never touched up on Freyja's siblings; the only time I did was like many chapters ago. Her oldest sister and her second oldest brother will probably never get names and this will be their only time be singly mentioned again. However, Freyja is the twin who is the charitable Entrepreneur and while I gave her a twin (oh the cringeness) . However we will see her older (twin) brother in a later chapter and we will get to meet him… maybe… probably… _eventually_.

I not own the Inheritance cycle, for if I did there would be a Wob step spell (One of the deadliest spells ever created)

* * *

Chapter

Of Plans and Horses

Freyja and Murtagh arrived and much to the servant's surprise, the two seemed rather content (saying that they were happy would have been probably being too much). As Freyja bid her husband farewell, Eragon could see that Murtagh flashed Eragon a look of uncertainty which he doubted anyone else saw.

'_He may be confused at my appearance, so he will probably be waiting to confront me alone about it but what frightens me is how he will meet me when we are not in the King's presence as before being how he was ordered to torture me… I do not know if Murtagh would truly want to torture me himself without the king ever holding him back_'

"I would like this to be quickly washed," Freyja's soft voice rang through his mind, causing him to stop for a moment, "And my dresses to be packed… I am leaving; I do not know where but I trust Murtagh will tell me soon".

"But you just got here a mere few days ago, my lady," Kurt said to her, not mentioning the fact that Saphira will be here.

The girl licked her lips and nodded.

"I know… yet you all had been so good to me despite the 'shortcomings'".

"Then," Gaynel said as she cocked her head to the side, "How will you be able to get there?"

"I will be traveling with him on the back of Thorn," The blonde replied in a calm manner as the servants around her exchanged looks.

"Thorn, Milady?" Olivia asked they followed her to her bedchambers.

"Murtagh's red dragon," Freyja said as they closed the door behind them.

Kurt, Winomina, and Eragon stood as Olivia and the younger maids took care of Freyja.

"I see that he might actually care for her," the maid sniffed as Kurt grunted in agreement.

"Never the less, she will be the lucky few to actually make it out. Lord Adohlfin will stay along with his mother: he is already having it so that Lady Catherine is to go to a manor just near the Jiet River while their daughter will be sent to Aroughs, where she will be in the care of their third cousin Lord Halstead".

"From what I heard, it is one of the safest places to be," Eragon added as Kurt nodded.

"I've been there only once, and even then, it looked like it could handle a siege much less a dragon's attack," the Servant said as he seemed to be remembering the place, "They also have rather nice breads and wine there as well".

"Are they having trouble with refugees?" the one armed man asked as Kurt gravely nodded.

"Of course, but not as you think: they have the least mostly because the lord there has a tax for those who wish be safe; any people consider it cheaper to return to the cities and towns that were destroyed and attempt to fix it rather than stay in Aroughs," the servant described as he sighed, "But that doesn't stop with the seasonally mills and such".

"I will leave when we see Freyja off. I doubt I will get much sleep tonight," Winomina said as she rubbed her arms, "I am not a coward but I do not want to be slaughtered like sheep".

"I cannot blame you," Kurt said as he rubbed his back, "you still have children of your own, but my place is here. I have served Lady Lorana when she was still in her prime and when Adohlfin was just in his teens. I have never had a real family such as yours but they have treated me and others very well and I would feel like I have betrayed them".

Winomina covered her mouth as small tears appeared; Eragon had seen men and women just like him who were only loyal to the ones they served. Sometimes the brown eyed rider was forced to kill them because they took it upon themselves to try and kill him before they reached their lords and ladies.

"Are you sure?" the maid asked as the green eyed servant nodded.

"I may not be a soldier, but I would gladly lay my life before them. They are good people and seeing them got to waste would wrong".

There was an uneasy silence that fell upon them as Winomina wiped away her tears before she said, "What of Olivia? I know Juliana will go with me and Gaynel is leaving with a butler but Olivia never told me what she will be doing".

"She told me that she will stay: in her past years, she was a nurse who took care of soldiers and others during both sieges. She is very adept in healing them".

Winomina mournfully nodded.

"You two were always there…"

Kurt looked over to Eragon, and the rider could see that this man had already accepted his fate.

"What of you, Bergan? Will you stay?"

"I don't know… I doubt they will let me stay".

"'They'?" Kurt asked, arching his brow.

"I was a m-magician they found… when I told them I did not want to serve…," he said as now Winomina was looking at him.

"I see," the maid said nodding, "The Varden I take it? The Empire already has several magicians, more than enough. And I see that maybe the Empire thought you were in league with them?"

Eragon couldn't say anything as he heard this but merely nodded.

"But then why haven't you used your magic?" Kurt asked him which Winomina quickly replied, "Maybe Galbatorix thinks that he is a spy and put a spell over him?"

The servant nodded, apparently accepting it.

"Even if Galbatorix is a cruel king, at least he doesn't force people to join him".

. . . . .

"Nice weather you are having," Galbatorix remarked as he stood beside the window in study of Murtagh's apartment, "You don't really see such beautiful cloud formations in Urû'baen".

Murtagh said nothing as he stood just feet from him, wishing to whatever god that the old king would just leave.

"So, I take it you just _now_ taken an interest in her or is all of this a show?"

"It would depend on how you look at it".

"Ah, so if I were to see into your mind and look, I would see that you do care for her?" the king asked as he looked over his shoulder.

_Stay strong Murtagh…_

"Of course," the red dragon rider replied as he stood, "Though _forgive me_ for being curious but why her?"

"_I_ _beg your pardon_, Murtagh?" Galbatorix purred as he turned around; his eyes were shining like candles, which meant it was very dangerous to talk to him.

"You could have had her for a consort but instead you made her my wife. You have had many men in your ranks… especially _your son_, who would have enjoyed having a wife".

"Oh Murtagh, Murtagh, Murtagh," Galbatorix said as he walked towards his younger rider, "Think of it like this: people are like horses. They can be lead into battle, killed, replaced, be taught petty tricks, and much more. Now there are particular kinds of horses that people strive to have like warhorses, horses that are unnaturally fast, or horses just meant for show and people are just like that. Now which would you consider yourself?"

_What is he getting at with horses, Murtagh?_

'_Knowing him, he could have used dogs_'.

_But why horses?_

"A show horse," Murtagh replied causing the older man to laugh before his hand went to the younger man's neck.

"No, Murtagh, you are a warhorse, a rather _stubborn_ one at that, but a strong, _faithful_ one," The older man said as he then grabbed Murtagh's throat and tightened his hold, "Sadly, you are not as much as either compared to your father".

Murtagh clenched his fists as he fell to his knees and looked up to Galbatorix.

"Now particular horses have abilities, even when they do not show it or cannot do it, so those are used to breed. And so Freyja is a broodmare, do you know why?" He asked as his grip tightened.

"No… _why_?"

"Because when you have a particular ability in one area in one particular horse and a promising ability within another, a breeder would want to combine them".

"So I take it that it wasn't by chance that the battalion found the city, _my lord_? That the people from the outpost possess something you _want_?" Murtagh managed to ask through his clenched teeth.

"Maybe, maybe not," Galbatorix hummed as a sinister smile spread across his face, "And there was a reason why I let those women get away with what they did _at first_. It's a rather hard thing to find what I am looking for, but thankfully, I found someone as willing as that girl I gave you. Now do you have any more questions?"

Dread filled him; despite being vaguely told what this man wanted, Murtagh still could not understand what the crazed king would want with their child. What ability did Freyja have that linked her with the other women he had been with?

"No my Lord," Murtagh managed to say, not daring to ask anymore as the King let him go.

"Excellent," Galbatorix declared as he rubbed his hands together, as if he was dusting off his hands off, "Now, I need you to go to Aroughs, which is but a mere hop-skip away from Feinster. I am sure that Halstead will be more than willing to have the two of you stay; I believe Galiana would be more than happy to be friends with Freyja… don't you think? I am sure a Show pony would be great friends with a broodmare"

Murtagh coughed onto the floor as the older man nodded.

"Now, the reason why I am sending you to Aroughs instead of Belatona, Melian, or even Dras-Leona is because I hear that the Duke of Feinster is having second thoughts with being in leagues with the Varden and so that he is willing to consider fully converting himself to the Empire. I know Belatona would sound much more promising, but since you will be leaving from Aroughs, it would better be a city that could withstand an attack if Saphira was to follow you and attack the city you were in".

"What do you mean…," Murtagh gasped as he touched his throat, somewhat amazed that this illusion the old man had created could harm people, "by 'leaving'?"

"Oh of course! Silly me!" The mad king declared slapping his forehead, "You see I will give you a lot of help this time…! Just think of it: Saphira of the Varden is attacking a _poor helpless_ city while the Varden _does nothing_ to stop her. But just as she is about to demolish the entire city, who else but the Empire arrives to stop her and snub her nose".

_He doesn't seem in any real rush to retrieve her yet…_

'_Galbatorix still considers this a game… he is simply playing hide and seek with her as he betters his image and soon gains even more support_,' Murtagh replied as he cautiously distance himself from Galbatorix.

_I am afraid of that… but Murtagh, why would Galbatorix call Freyja a broodmare if the union between the two of you was to strengthen the king's own treasure and army? What good will Galbatorix get from your own offspring?_

"So do you agree, Murtagh?" Galbatorix asked in a chiding tone as Murtagh nodded, "Excellent".

"We shall leave tomorrow, my lord," he said as Galbatorix's smile widened.

"Very good".

_Well, Murtagh?_

'_Who knows these things?_'

* * *

I don't know why I am so fascinated with horses lately: first unicorns now referring to people as horses… Hm, next thing you know I am going to give Freyja a horse


	40. I just wanna hold your hand!

I saw Transformers: Dark side of the Moon, and I had to laugh at John Malkovich trying to take Bee on. Bee's like hell'va lot bigger than John and yet his character wanted to take on the _freakin' Autobot_! Silly John!

And let's not forget Spock as Sentinel: I had to laugh again because at the beginning those two minibots were watching Star Trek, and one of them said they have seen it before for it was the episode Spock goes crazy. Lol

However, there was a frigid brilliance in Optimis Prime's speech about the world leaders needing them and they had to make it seem they were gone: and to think all those civilians killed, were either vaporized or blown up in order to get the point across. Ye-ouch!

Restrained. Freedom- Well, wouldn't you like to know? But yeah, Eragon and Murtagh are definitely polar opposite of each other and so I have to write it like that: Eragon is the young naive boy who believes in what he does and Murtagh is the jaded man-killing servant who has come to accept what he does. Yup, fun fun!

I do not own the Inheritance cycle, but while I do not own it, I would totally kill to have either Sean Connery's or Leonard Nimoy's voice and sing like Ofra Haza!

* * *

**Chapter 34**

A deal with the Devil and Signs of affection

That night Eragon was awoken by two men coming to his bed that night; there was little he could do but just lay there until they reached him.

They were rather calm when they forced him up, waited patiently as he dressed and then moved him through the beds of sleeping servants and into the hall until he reached a room where Monco stood. He motioned for the men, apparently guards, to leave them, which they obediently did with a solemn nod.

"I know you must be a man of importance in order to have that mask on," he said in such a gravelly voice, causing Eragon to jump.

"You…. You can see through it?" he asked, gesturing towards his face, "I thought no one could".

"I was struck in the back of my head by a horse when I was 11 years old," he explained as he gestured to the back of his head, "I cannot see color, smell, nor can I feel pain and apparently I see through illusions such as the one over you".

Eragon let out a sigh before he then asked, "Why am I here?"

"If you are who I think you are, then I am here to ask you to help me escort Lady Elisabeth to Aroughs. I have heard a group of thieves that are within the swamp near the city that is lead by a man named Jackal; they are ruthless and cut throat and are known to dabble in human trafficking to raiding parties. I could have an armed escort with me but my men are needed here to protect Lord Adohlfin and it would gain far t much attention. Why I am telling you this is because I know what you are capable of if you are whom I think you are".

"But I cannot…Use magic".

"You can fight, can you?"

Eragon lifted his left hand and shrugged, "I am fairly good with my left hand but it is somewhat hard to fight with just one hand sometimes".

"True… I will give you a light sword which you could use one hand with," Monco suggested as Eragon cocked his head to the side.

"Have you spoken to this to Lord Adohlfin or Lady Lorana?"

The man was about to say something but made a face of pain instead, rubbing his head as if he had a headache; this lasted for a few minutes before Eragon felt a ringing in his ears and soon his vision was flooded.

He stood in a room where he saw Arya staring at a window where she was sitting in an elaborate chair with its legs looked like tree stumps, its arms carved to look like branches which she rested her long pale arms on and the back appeared like the entire tree that curved with her back. Her hair had gotten longer as it spilt over and was already touching the floor like a black waterfall while her pale feet stood out on the dark wood floor and the powdered green robe covered her legs and her arms.

He slowly walked towards her, his hands slightly shaking as he then noticed he had both hands; it was as if he was in a dream as the room lit up and soon it appeared they were in a room in Ellesmera.

Eragon walked over to her and touched the chair and looked down on her.

"Arya?" he said to her as she looked ahead for but a mere few minutes before looking to him with a faint smile.

"Eragon…," she said to him as she rose from her chair and then stood in front of him; she touched his shoulder with one hand and then touched his neck with her other hand, "I waited for you…"

"What for? I would remember if I made you wait," he replied smiling to her as she too smiled as he then felt both of her hands around his neck and before he could react, she encircled her long elegant fingers around his neck and tightened them.

He tried to speak but as he tried to, she tightened her hold.

"You were always a simple boy," she said in a mocking tone before it dawned on Eragon who this was, "You now find out? Took you long enough!"

"Get out of my head…!" he managed to say, which she simply tsked in response.

"What? Afraid that I will corrupt something? Too late I believe," she or rather Galbatorix taunted as he pushed him down, "Come on, Eragon, and attack me! This is your chance to beat me!"

He simply laid on his back, staring at the image of Arya standing over him with a frightening sneer across her face; Galbatorix then began to circle him, gesturing him to attack.

"So I guess you are wondering why I am talking with you," he said as he stopped circling, "I know Saphira is coming, which I am sure you already knew that. Now I am sure you know why I am keeping the two of you separated for a little bit: the support for the Varden is wavering and I need to be near depleted when I do allow myself to battle her... Come now, _Eragon_, why are you pouting? Is it because I am keeping the two of you apart? Poor, innocent, little Eragon is away from this bloodthirsty, _man killing_ Saphira?"

"Shut up!" he screamed as he rubbed his throat, "Don't you dare-"

"Patronize you? Belittle Saphira? I am so sorry, it is just so _easy_!"

He growled and was about to leap towards him but stop as he looked at Arya; Galbatorix took advantage of this and punched him in the face which caused him to yet again hit the floor.

"You _will_ go to Aroughs with your _big brother_ and your _sister-in-law_, where you will be serving under them: something you have done before. However your meaning of transportation shall be a lot different from theirs I suppose; being how you will help escorting the brat, _right_? Granted I know Monco is a worthy warrior but he can only handle so much. If you turn down his offer, I think he and Elisabeth will surely die! Such tragedy to befallen onto a child as young as her! I wonder if you would be able to sleep with the fact that you allowed a man asking for help to die…"

He glared at the older man, shaking slightly with anger before slamming his fist to the ground as he let out a growl.

"I take it you have decided?" he purred as Eragon tightened his hands.

"Why the hell are _you asking me_?"

"It is always polite to ask," Galbatorix said casually, laughing at Eragon, "So you will help them, right? You know how much I hate _making_ people do as I say".

"If I do this…," Eragon said as he bit down on his lip, "will you protect Feinster?"

Galbatorix lifted his chin arrogantly yet the younger dragon rider shivered, not because of the man, but because he was using Arya's image.

"_Vel einradhin iet ai Shur'tugal_," Galbatorix replied as the world seemed to have shaken from what he said.

"I shall go…"

Galbatorix lifted a brow and made a circling gesture with his hand, as if Eragon had more to say.

"I shall go, _my lord_," Eragon said before he apparently fell through the floor and into the abyss of his mind.

His mind felt like it was being tossed about through the waves of turmoil and dread before he finally he was standing alone in the dark but he knew he wasn't alone.

"I will go Monco," Eragon said as his vision became clear, where he knew he was standing before Monco who seemed to have recovered from his headache.

"I see you blacked out… will that be a problem during the journey?" He asked as he crossed his arms, and when Eragon shook his head; nodding Monco then said, "Then I know I am in good hands"

"When will we leave?"

"Immediately. Lord Adohlfin had already sent Lady Catherine to Belatona and he knows that I am escorting Lady Elisabeth," Monco replied as he threw a cloak at Eragon, who easily caught it without even flinching, "It's good to see that your reflexes are still good".

The squinting man then lead Eragon through a servant's hallway before going down a series of stairs; during that time Eragon covered himself with the cloak and flipped over his hood so no-one could see him while Monco simply wore leather armor as well as a cloak, which he too pulled on his hood.

"Lady Elisabeth is with her nursemaid who is already waiting for us at the stables; beside the stables is the smithy, where you will be given a sword as well as a small shield, it will be rather plain looking. I am sure you can handle that?"

"Of course, any shield is good," Eragon replied, somewhat chuckling at the other man's sense of humor.

The smell of the hay reached Eragon's nose before they even got there; once they arrived, everything happened very fast.

Monco quickly mounted a rather ordinary looking horse and as he went to the maid, she easily gave him the sleeping child which he quickly secured her in front of him and gave her a nod; the old nursemaid quickly disappeared in the damp darkness.

Eragon quickly found a stable boy holding his horse, which he thanked the boy and got on and followed Monco out of the stables and past the smithy, which a rather weathered looking man quickly hurried to Monco and gave him a shield and then turned to Eragon and handed him a sword first, which the dragon rider placed onto his right side and took the shield, thanking the man who gave a nod and went back to the smithy.

As Eragon followed Monco out of the castle with very little detection, he tied his shield to his stump of an arm, and once it was secured, he quickly hit it underneath his cloak so no-one could even tell that he was wearing a shield. Granted, the dragon rider wished he had his right hand, but he had to deal with what he had, which was more than enough.

The two rode throughout the drizzly town and soon made it out of the city; Eragon gave one last look of the city and prayed to whatever god for the first time that Galbatorix had pulled through with his promise.

...

During the night, she held Puck close, who didn't seem to like how she kept on squeezing him; Freyja couldn't think of how she could bring her dog along and if she tried to, she didn't want to bother Murtagh with it (she knew he didn't like the dog).

This and the dragoness known as Saphira coming to Feinster bothered her and kept her from fully sleeping.

When morning came, her stomach was twisting and as she dressed in the riding habit and clenched her teeth as they braided her hair tightly.

"Where's Bergan?" Freyja asked as they delivered her breakfast.

"I think he left," Kurt suggested as Freyja nodded, her lips slightly twitching as she nibbled on a piece of toast.

She rather liked him, despite the two conversations they had, but she would miss her other serving staff as well; each one was so nice to her despite what happened to her with Franny and Phil.

After breakfast, she bid them fair well: embracing each one despite the differences of their class.

"I do not know what to do with Puck," she said as she gave Olivia one last squeeze.

"I can take care of him," Juliana said with a smile, "I will be with Winomina and her aunt in a little village near Belatona".

"We would take good care of him," Winomina added as she slightly bowed to her mistress.

"When will you leave?" she asked, knowing full well why they were leaving.

"Soon after you leave".

"Thank you for staying," Freyja said smiling.

. . . .

He slept fitfully and rose without a care as he readied for flight and ate a light breakfast; Thorn had eaten a large supper last night, so he was simply sleeping in or was pretending to.

'_Thorn, are you ready_?'

_A few more minutes, Murtagh…_

Murtagh shook his head but had a smirk on his face; knowing that being too pushy would make Thorn cranky, and whenever he was cranky, he had a habit of doing some somersaults during flying.

So the dragon rider decided to pick up Freyja in order to kill time.

There were a few servants walking about but even fewer nobles and courtiers walking about, which made the short journey to her ward rather nice.

As he reached her apartment, he knocked and waited, counting the steps the servant took to reach the door and how long it took for the door to open.

He saw Freyja looking his way, a light smile across her face, she turned and embraced the older maid before walking to the green eyed servant and quickly held his hand, gently squeezing it before telling him good bye and leaving.

As they were away from her ward, he then said to her, "Why did you bid them farewell?"

"They were nice to me," she replied, tilting her head at his question.

"There is no real reason to say 'good-bye' to them," he said as his brow lowered, "There will be more servants where we will be going".

"Why should it matter to you if I care for them?" she gently retorted, causing him to lift a brow, wondering where that came from, "Where will we be going to?"

"We shall be going to Aroughs," he replied as he began to walk and easily reached her; she frowned, which he explained further, "It is southeast of here; a mere days travel if you are traveling at a steady pace on horseback, half of a day if you are rushing, and a mere two hours when flying".

"That is fast".

"It would take an hour if not for the factor," he said as she gave a good natured smile.

"Why do you say that?"

"There is a chance that we could run into Saphira," he explained as she listened intently, "while Thorn and I will be covered from her, I fear you would not fare well".

"She must be truly a force of nature… I take it you've been up against her before?" Freyja murmured as Murtagh gave a small nod.

"More than I or Thorn would like, but if we fail to do our duty, we would be surely punished," He replied, which she was silent and nodded.

"Then I trust that you and Thorn will allow this journey to be safe".

Somehow he knew that she was truly grateful as she gently smiled his way and then looked to his hand; the two were quiet during most of the walk which he did not mind but she was now making a habit of glancing down at his hand which somewhat nerved him. He knew what she was doing was somewhat innocent but how she kept doing it for no apparent reason.

_Ask her then if you are annoyed by her looking at your hand._

Murtagh sighed but then looked her way as she glanced at his hand again and said to her in a somewhat controlled, "What's the matter?"

"Oh… It was just that…," she paused, somewhat nibbling on her lips before finally saying, "M…May I please hold your hand?"

"What?" he asked, somewhat chortling at what she said but seeing that she was serious, he somewhat frowned at her, "Why do you ask?"

She averted her eyes.

"No reason".

He sighed as they were once again quiet, but only for a moment.

"Why do you want to hold my hand?"

"I… ," she fumbled around with hands ,"I just wanted to hold your hand… I mean not in front of everyone but you know…"

'_Why is she acting like this just to hold my hand?_'

_I_ _guess she is being polite; seeing how she doesn't to push you away I guess?_

"You may," he said to her before saying further, "you may hold my hand"

Her hand slowly reached over and gently touched his hand and his fingers before she brought her fingers behind his hand and her thumb rested just bellow his; resting snugly into Murtagh's hand and softly squeezed his hand.

He did not return the squeeze but simply looked ahead; however, her hand was soft and small in his own rough, slightly larger hands.

Murtagh somewhat forgot what it was like to hold another person's hand when he wasn't shaking one.

* * *

Aaaaw, now isn't that sweet? It's not a kiss, and it is not a hug: they're simply holding hands! And I don't know; I just felt that it would be awkward for the two of them to immediately kiss.

That and it feels a little forced, but whatever. That and this is a combination of 34 and 35... Bleh!


	41. Manners makes the man! Blimey!

Here is the April fools version of chapter 35! All thanks to TVTropes for having a dialect translator! The dialect used is a cockney one, so I hope you enjoy it! :D

I re-read a few parts from the Hunger Games series… freakin' cried! If you've read it you'd understand: mostly surrounding Rue, District 11, and the Epilogue's melody.

But I rarely cry because of a book or even a movie; I get teary eyed but that's it. Then I recall Islanzadí'S death: she's been in the series since Eldest, and when she bites the bullet, I laugh at it. But when Rue… well… you know, she's only been in the first book for a small part I was like 'No! D:' Then again, Paolini gave no reason for me to sympathize with her or feel bad that she died.

She just gave me the feeling that she was a total bitch: where did she give me the reason to feel sorry for her?

It's like how most people feel for Arya. :l

Restrained . Freedom: That's not creepy, that is lucky! I love it when that happens! And what? That would ruin _everything_! That would be too easy, and you forget Freyja likes Galbatorix (despite his bastard son)… which will probably change soon. Its funny when listening to a commentary on a particular movie, one of the guys said that the entire movie would have been over if one character told the other character: 'Look, let's talk'.

I don't own the Inherita- OH MY GOD! I SAW THE MOVIE! Granted, there were a few changes in it but IT WAS AMA-A-A-A-AZING! (Most likely because Suzanne Collins _was_ a part of the screen writers… unlike _some writers_ cough-Paolini-cough)

* * *

**Chapter 35**

The road ter safety is always filled wiv perils

They 'ad the mockers put on at a wee inn near the bleedin' front of the swamp in the early afternoon in order for them ter stretch their legs and eat.

Elisabeff were at first fussy but she calmed dahn soon as she ate the food in front of 'er wich needless ter say 'ave a looked alive inside of a pie crust.

Monco were cautious and gave no sign ter holdin' more brass than they 'ad and Eragon sat by, pokin' at 'is pie but kept a tab on evry geezer dahn ter the rats in the room.

"Aren't yer gonna eat?" the chuffin' toddler asked, right, 'ave a lookin' over ter the squintin' man.

"Soon".

"How soon?"

"Soon enough," Monco said, allowin' the corner of 'is North and South ter go up.

"Yer better eat too, ravver than pick 'round at it," Elisabeff ordered ter Eragon 'oo nodded and gave 'er a somewot crooked.

"I will," 'e croaked as 'e picked up a piece in 'is fork and managed ter eat it; it were okay, but 'e 'ad far better at Carvahall.

Wile 'e tried ter eat, Eragon kept track of the four tables behind them ter the bleedin' rats in the cracks; free of the tables 'e were weary of but one in particular 'e were wotchful of.

There were two lanky men wearin' fick clofink, right, levver boots and vests, and sported a tattoo on their arms that 'ave a looked like a jackal. Eragon knew Monco knew this but the bleedin' man appeared ter be restin'; the few blokes that were sittin' on the tables made no attempt ter eever acknowledge them or ignore them.

It were apparent they knew wot these men were.

The bloomin' cook and trouble and strife of the owner cautiously gave the two men their meals and walked oray ter make it so they were as far oray from them as possible.

The bloody men were somewot messy, right, for they 'ad some etiquette for they used the bloomin' forks they were given and 'ad the decency of keepin' their North and Souths somewot closed, but they lacked in manners. Elisabeff, much ter Eragon's amusement, right, had almost florless table manners despite bein' 3 and that wot she were eatin' didn't deserve the chuffin' manners. Yer can't 'ave a knees-up wivout a joanna.

"This is cold," one of the men said frowin' it dahn, "Wot the chuffin' hell sort of shit is this?"

Monco didn't seem care but the red 'aired child covered 'er North and South at wot 'e said.

"He said a bad word," she said in a low, right, hissed voiced, "He said a said a bad word…! Honest guv!"

"Are yer feedin' us sheep's shit?" the uvver man growled as 'e drew out a knife, right, "I want me brass's worff back! Blimey!"

"He said anuvver bad word…! Right!" she wispered, 'ave a lookin' ter see if Monco or Eragon shared 'er surprise.

"Yer eat it, yer buy it," the inn keeper said, somewot scared but remainin' steadfast.

"Bull shit! Oi! I want me brass back! Blimey!" the one wiv the knife frowin' 'is dahn as well.

Elisabeff gave a wee 'uff as she 'opped from 'er seat and quicker than Monco could reach 'er and usin' Eragon's stump of an arm as an advantage, right, she marched up ter the bleedin' men wiv 'er chin up and chest out.

"Yer better tidy them up and apologize ter ffem! Honest guv!" she ordered the men 'oo stood there for a mument and then laughed at 'er Nanny Goat Race.

"Wot did yer say brat?"

"I said," Elisabeff snapped, not the least bit deterred as she pointed a finger at them, "Tidy this mess up and apologize ter ffem! Oi!"

Durin' all of this Monco and Eragon made it so that they moved unnoticed from behind the table and ter each side of the room so that they could easily take the chuffin' men from boff sides.

"Oh right, right, princess?" The bandit demanded as 'e 'eld the knife before 'im and towards the bleedin' child, 'oo stood unfazed, "I would feel bad for killin' yer but I will teach yer a fin' or two about disrespectin' yor elders! Right!"

Monco, the bleedin' closest ter the bloomin' bandit wiv the knife were upon 'im like an angered bull; 'e collided onto the bleedin' man and beat 'im dahn wile Eragon took care of 'is partner, takin' 'im dahn a few minutes more than 'ow 'e liked.

As they were on the floor, Elisabeff placed 'er 'ands on 'er 'ips and then 'ave a looked ter Monco and Eragon

"Yer may say yer're sorry ter ffem," she said as they tried move from the squintin' man and Eragon's feet but were stuck.

It took a few minutes but they grudgingly said sorry and sullenly spat at the floor before leavin'; Monco said nuffink as 'e 'urried Elisabeff out and onto 'er 'orse.

"Why are we leavin'?" she asked as Eragon easily jumped onto 'is own 'orse and tied 'is shield onto ter his stump of an arm and followed after the man wivout missin' a second.

"We should cop there by sunset," Monco informed boff Eragon and Elisabeff, "But I want ter reach there before… There would be more of them men comin' hammer and tack if we stay there".

Eragon nodded, feelin' the urgency of the situation wile the bloody toddler somewot pouted.

"Okay then," she said as she puckered 'er lips and somewot squinted, "I 'ope we cop there before any of them men get's the idea ter ambush us".

The chuffin' two men said nuffink as they pushed on, right, keepin' one eye on the bleedin' swamp and the uvver on the road in front of them.

The swamp nearly covered two-ffirds of the chuffin' rest of the journey, causin' them ter be more than alert as they passed by: foughts of bandits waitin' for them kept pepperin' their foughts as well wile rogue Empire and even Varden soldiers but they kept pushin' frough.

Wen they reached the first field of farmin' were wen they somewot relaxed but they knew that they should not put their guard dahn.

Eragon smelt the fresh air, almost reminded of Carvahall as they passed by the bloody by the new planted and soiled fields yet as they passed by, right, the bloomin' dragon rider noted that wot 'e 'ad 'eard were true, for there were less blokes 'oo appeared as refugees.

'Poor, miserable blokes,' Eragon fought as they continued onto their pace as if the bloomin' bandit's were 'ot on their trail, 'to eever Nanny Goat Race Saphira's wraff, right, bandits, or 'igh taxes set upon them'.

A wee smudge were seen just above them, wich Elisabeff were somewot 'appy.

"How long until we cop there?" she somewot demanded as Monco paused ter estimate it before sayin' ter her, right, "about 3 more 'ours".

She 'uffed but did not complain as the bloody sun were slowly settin'; the horses were bein' pushed, right, but Eragon managed ter pour some energy into 'is own 'orse so it could 'old in there. Granted the strap 'round 'is neck tightened but 'e could live wiv it ravver than 'avin' 'is 'orse collapse onto the ground.

True ter Monco's word, they reached the chuffin' city, but it were dusk and the gates were closed.

"Wot business do yer 'ave ter demand that we should open up?" the guardsman demanded as Elisabeff seemed annoyed by this rabbit and pork but said nuffink.

"I come from Feinster, right, escortin' Lord Adohlfin's and Lady Cafferine's child, Lady Elisabeff".

"How do we know that?"

Monco put 'is 'and into 'is cloak, causin' some of the archers ter ready themselves but relaxed as Monco 'eld up a document. The bloomin' man nodded ter wot appeared ter be a magician and instantly the document were in the chuffin' man's 'and 'oo then opened it and read it.

For a few minutes it were quiet before Elisabeff grew impatient.

"Yer've read the letter! Blimey! Now let us in or else I will ask that yer ter be out of a Uncle Bob! Blimey!"

Eragon knew it were somewot gutsy of the child but the bloomin' man nodded and quickly bowed ter her.

"Forgive us Lady Elisabeff," 'e said, right, clearly not takin' the bloomin' child's freat straight up as 'e motioned for the chuffin' gates ter open.

"That were easy," Monco said ter Eragon, right, "I were afraid we would cop ambushed but I guess I 'ave yor luck ter thank.

"Welcome ter Aroughs".

As they entered, the squintin' warrior turned ter one of the armed men and got off the chuffin' horse, handin' the man 'is reins.

"I need a new pony that will sustain me: I travel hammer and tack to Feinster".

Eragon stared at 'im, his North and South slightly open.

"Are yer sure, then, eh? There are bandits 'round this time of day and the Dragon-"

"I know… I will manage and as yor loyalty is ter Lord 'alstead, mine is ter Lord Adohlfin," Monco said as 'e bowed 'is loaf of bread to the man 'oo nodded respectfully ter him.

"Right well… yer shall be given a fresh 'orse and may luck be wiv evry stride yer take".

* * *

I think it is an improvement: You can see the language just drip with this lovely accent!


	42. Manners make the man

Well, this is by request, and here you go Restrained. Freedom

And I think Elisabeth might her spunkiness from her mom: her dad is just too nice.

So long Monco!

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, bu- wub, wub, wub, wub, wub, wu-

* * *

Chapter 35

The road to safety is always filled with perils

They stopped at a tiny inn near the front of the swamp in the early afternoon in order for them to stretch their legs and eat. Elisabeth was at first fussy but she calmed down as soon as she ate the food in front of her which needless to say looked alive inside of a pie crust.

Monco was cautious and gave no sign to holding more money than they had and Eragon sat by, poking at his pie but kept a tab on everyone down to the rats in the room.

"Aren't you going to eat?" the toddler asked, looking over to the squinting man.

"Soon".

"How soon?"

"Soon enough," Monco said, allowing the corner of his mouth to go up.

"You better eat too, rather than pick around at it," Elisabeth ordered to Eragon who nodded and gave her a somewhat crooked.

"I will," he croaked as he picked up a piece in his fork and managed to eat it; it was okay, but he had far better at Carvahall.

While he tried to eat, Eragon kept track of the four tables behind them to the rats in the cracks; three of the tables he was weary of but one in particular he was watchful of.

There were two lanky men wearing thick clothing, leather boots and vests, and sported a tattoo on their arms that looked like a jackal. Eragon knew Monco knew this but the man appeared to be resting; the few people that were sitting on the tables made no attempt to either acknowledge them or ignore them.

It was apparent they knew what these men were.

The cook and wife of the owner cautiously gave the two men their meals and walked away to make it so they were as far away from them as possible.

The men were somewhat messy, for they had some etiquette for they used the forks they were given and had the decency of keeping their mouths somewhat closed, but they lacked in manners. Elisabeth, much to Eragon's amusement, had almost flawless table manners despite being 3 and that what she was eating didn't deserve the manners.

"This is cold," one of the men said throwing it down, "What the hell kind of shit is this?"

Monco didn't seem care but the red haired child covered her mouth at what he said.

"He said a bad word," she said in a low, hissed voiced, "He said a said a bad word…!"

"Are you feeding us sheep's shit?" the other man growled as he drew out a knife, "I want my money's worth back!"

"He said another bad word…!" she whispered, looking to see if Monco or Eragon shared her surprise.

"You eat it, you buy it," the inn keeper said, somewhat scared but remaining steadfast.

"Bull shit! I want my money back!" the one with the knife throwing his down as well.

Elisabeth gave a small huff as she hopped from her seat and quicker than Monco could reach her and using Eragon's stump of an arm as an advantage, she marched up to the men with her chin up and chest out.

"You better clean those up and apologize to them!" she ordered the men who stood there for a moment and then laughed at her face.

"What did you say brat?"

"I said," Elisabeth snapped, not the least bit deterred as she pointed a finger at them, "Clean this mess up and apologize to them!"

During all of this Monco and Eragon made it so that they moved unnoticed from behind the table and to each side of the room so that they could easily take the men from both sides.

"Oh really, princess?" The bandit demanded as he held the knife before him and towards the child, who stood unfazed, "I would feel bad for killing you but I will teach you a thing or two about disrespecting your elders!"

Monco, the closest to the bandit with the knife was upon him like an angered bull; he collided onto the man and beat him down while Eragon took care of his partner, taking him down a few minutes more than how he liked.

As they were on the floor, Elisabeth placed her hands on her hips and then looked to Monco and Eragon.

"You may say you're sorry to them," she said as they tried move from the squinting man and Eragon's feet but were stuck.

It took a few minutes but they grudgingly said sorry and sullenly spat at the floor before leaving; Monco said nothing as he hurried Elisabeth out and onto her horse.

"Why are we leaving?" she asked as Eragon easily jumped onto his own horse and tied his shield onto to his stump of an arm and followed after the man without missing a second.

"We should get there by sunset," Monco informed both Eragon and Elisabeth, "But I want to reach there before… There would be more of those men coming back if we stay there".

Eragon nodded, feeling the urgency of the situation while the toddler somewhat pouted.

"Okay then," she said as she puckered her lips and somewhat squinted, "I hope we get there before any of those men get's the idea to ambush us".

The two men said nothing as they pushed on, keeping one eye on the swamp and the other on the road in front of them.

The swamp nearly covered two-thirds of the rest of the journey, causing them to be more than alert as they passed by: thoughts of bandits waiting for them kept peppering their thoughts as well while rogue Empire and even Varden soldiers but they kept pushing through.

When they reached the first field of farming was when they somewhat relaxed but they knew that they should not put their guard down.

Eragon smelt the fresh air, almost reminded of Carvahall as they passed by the by the new planted and soiled fields yet as they passed by, the dragon rider noted that what he had heard was true, for there was less people who appeared as refugees.

'_Poor, miserable people_,' Eragon thought as they continued onto their pace as if the bandit's was hot on their trail, '_to either face Saphira's wrath, bandits, or high taxes set upon them_'.

A small smudge was seen just above them, which Elisabeth was somewhat happy.

"How long until we get there?" she somewhat demanded as Monco paused to estimate it before saying to her, "about 3 more hours".

She huffed but did not complain as the sun was slowly setting; the horses were being pushed, but Eragon managed to pour some energy into his own horse so it could hold in there. Granted the strap around his neck tightened but he could live with it rather than having his horse collapse onto the ground.

True to Monco's word, they reached the city, but it was dusk and the gates were closed.

"What business do you have to demand that we should open up?" the guardsman demanded as Elisabeth seemed annoyed by this talk but said nothing.

"I come from Feinster, escorting Lord Adohlfin's and Lady Catherine's child, Lady Elisabeth".

"How do we know that?"

Monco put his hand into his cloak, causing some of the archers to ready themselves but relaxed as Monco held up a document. The man nodded to what appeared to be a magician and instantly the document was in the man's hand who then opened it and read it.

For a few minutes it was quiet before Elisabeth grew impatient.

"You've read the letter! Now let us in or else I will ask that you to be out of a job!"

Eragon knew it was somewhat gutsy of the child but the man nodded and quickly bowed to her.

"Forgive me Lady Elisabeth," he said, clearly not taking the child's threat seriously as he motioned for the gates to open.

"That was easy," Monco said to Eragon, "I was afraid we would get ambushed but I guess I have your luck to thank. Welcome to Aroughs".

As they entered, the squinting warrior turned to one of the armed men and got off the horse, handing the man his reins.

"I need a new pony that will sustain me: I travel back to Feinster".

Eragon stared at him, his mouth slightly open.

"Are you sure? There are bandits around this time of day and the Dragon-"

"I know… I will manage and as your loyalty is to Lord Halstead, mine is to Lord Adohlfin," Monco said as he bowed his head to the man who nodded respectfully to him.

"Very well… you shall be given a fresh horse and may luck be with every stride you take".

* * *

Compare and laugh, yo!


	43. New Places, new Opportunities

I came across Genghis: Birth of an Empire at my old high school and I read it and I really liked it. It is basically the beginning book to the birth, childhood, and young adult of Genghis Khan (KHAN!). Then at my local library I found that it is a series and I read it (and liked it); and while in most documentaries where Genghis is a stone cold killer and he is, but reading the Genghis series gave me more than just a face and a word: it gave me a culture and I learned that Aarag is a strong alcohol they would drink.

I like how Conn Iggulden writes, making me understand why Genghis was a badass who united all tribes into one large army known as the Mongols (and one of the people you do not want to piss off or insult). And while he is not perfect, he is still a badass: Iggulden has written another series that deals with Julius Caesar and has a book out for Kublai Khan (KHAN!) the grandson of Genghis … Betcha didn't know that now did ya?

I've tried to rack my mind on whom I would consider a badass (Meaning someone who can _prove_ and back what they say again and again instead of just saying it and win every fight) in the Inheritance Cycle, but I can't really because I yet to see one rise (I could be wrong, but…). I kinda think Roran is _kinda_ at that level, but I am not a big fan of him to care.

Restrained Freedom- The smudge was Aroughs and while I know I should have been more descriptive, but I never really paid any attention to it. And it would have been redundant for them to go to Aroughs to begin with: Monco is dropping them off while he returns to Feinster to be kindling… err… I mean be there for Adohlfin and Lorena.

BrightWatcher- I'm glad you think she is unique: to make her anything else but spunky wouldn't do her any justice. And thanks.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, for if I did, the story would be about Elisabeth: by the age of 3 ½ she would have become leader of the Varden, at 4 she would have defeated Galbatorix, and by 4 ½ she would have become High Queen of Alagaësia. I would believe some of her popular laws would be that everyone gets naps, get dessert after supper, five minute time outs, and learn manners. Sadly, this story isn't about her, so we have to make due with this.

* * *

Chapter 36  
Safely and sound

The flight seemed rather short despite how neither one of them said anything; Thorn hummed underneath them as they flew over the clouds and in the late morning, early afternoon air. Unlike before which Freyja was simply tied to Murtagh with a rope, he added more belts, tying each leg with a belt to his own yet this time she was tied to the saddle rather than him.

As they traveled southeast, the clouds began to disperse and soon there was nothing but the yellow-greenish tall grass bellow along with the dark rocks, a cottage or two, and the slightly darker greenish blue ocean.

Soon they changed from the ocean of water to a sea of grasslands with islands of dark brown fields with rows of greenery in them. The houses ranged from being two story houses to tiny clusters of huts where tiny flea-like specks were moving to and fro.

They had reached Aroughs, a large city that looked like a cup filled with dirt and rocks a little after 2; he unbuckled the two of them and helped her down where there was nobody there to greet them, yet neither Freyja nor Murtagh cared.

_I'll see what I could find around here: I want to see if there is any game worth going after before I leave the area_.

Murtagh nodded to Thorn and said, "Happy hunting".

As they walked out a slight distance away, the red scaled dragon flew into the air, creating a big gust of wind in the process, causing Freyja's skirts to flutter and the dirt in the open room to push towards the wall.

"Have you ever been here before?" Freyja asked as they walked into a hallway where one side was pure white while the other was open but had wooden banisters and pillars that looked down into a dining hall where not a soul was in.

"Sometimes," he replied; during most of those times he kept to himself in somewhat peaceful bliss due to how 'social' the courtiers and nobles here were.

The word always spread around himself and Lady Galiana, the youngest of eight children, seven of which were boys who spoiled her with their overprotective attitudes. They had a bad habit of assuming that since Galiana was around him, that he was interested in their sister.

_Since you have Freyja here, you might be able to ward them off! _Thorn teased, but meant well of it.

'_I wouldn't bet on it_'.

"Where is everyone?"

"They are probably just watching a jousting tournament".

"Jousting?"

"Yes, it is where two men with spears ride horses and run at each other while trying to get the other one down," Murtagh explained to her, but as she slightly pursed her lips.

"I know what it is… It's been a while since I have seen one," she said with a small somewhat embarrassed smile before asking him, "Do you joust?"

He made a slight face and shook his head.

"When it comes to Tournaments, I would rather ride, and if it deals with on foot, I would prefer it to be with swords instead of spears".

"Do they do magic tournaments?"

"Only when Galbatorix is in the mood for one," the red dragon rider replied rather blandly, recounting battles between a well trained, well rested magician against a rebel, clearly shaken spell caster: it was very apparent who would win unless Galbatorix cheated.

They walked through the white walled, stone floored maze for what it felt like forever until finally meeting a soul: a well rounded old maid who was carrying a pitcher of clean, cool water; unlike before in Feinster, she made a small bow to Murtagh.

Freyja was somewhat surprised, for he could see her lift her brows, but he took no mind to it.

"Where is Lord Halstead?"

"He is in Urû'baen, speaking with Lord Galbatorix," she replied casually, "Lord Phillip is ruling in his place".

Murtagh could have cared less for the push-over Phillip, but at least he didn't have to deal with his boot kissing father: the man was more than willing to please Galbatorix as long as it profited him and the king knew this.

"Which grounds are they at?"

"The one on the north side of the castle," the crone replied as she gave a small bow to the both of them and then walked off; Freyja still looked surprised.

"What is it?" The gray eyed man asked which she gently bit her lip in response.

"I don't mean to sound rude but… I have never seen a servant bow to you," she said, which he shrugged.

"I could care less if they kissed my feet, but some of them are 'trained' to bow to anyone no matter what".

"You make them sound like dogs," Freyja replied as she looked toward the direction the old women went.

"It depends on how you look at it," he told her as they began to walk again, with him leading the way, "It's not that I entirely look down upon them, it is just that you cannot trust anyone fully no matter where you are. But unlike Feinster, you don't have worry about any one attacking you due to who you're with or who you are related to… however".

She frowned at his pause.

"'However'?"

"From what I have heard, Aroughs is having a bandit problem: Halstead is too lazy to go after them so he just gives them a slap on the wrist if they cannot pay the fines or accepts bribes from them whenever they're caught".

"Could you take care of it?" she asked which he simply shook his head.

"They have done nothing wrong yet, and it is Aroughs's problem: if Galbatorix wishes me to take care of this matter, he would have ordered me to do so".

She somewhat frowned at what he said, as if she was expecting him to say otherwise but she apparently did not dwell upon it.

They continued to walk in silence until they reached his usual apartment: yet again, it was far from the cluster nobles, but others (namely Galiana) would take the time to get here.

The entrance was merely an empty room with a working fountain and a sun roof above them and long, elegant stands that held candles were positioned at every corner. Freyja spent a minute looking at the fountain which was merely a marble pillar with fish curled at the bottom of it.

They then entered the hallway: it was narrow with long, egg white walls while the floors were uncomfortably stone but fortunately it was covered with thick rugs. On the left of the hall were the study, the dining room, and a sitting room that was barely used; to the right was yet another empty room, his bedroom, and a balcony area that had its own garden.

Unlike Murtagh who already knew the place, Freyja curiously looked through each room, starting with the study, looking around her before leaving the room.

When she had exited the dining room, he stopped her.

"I wish to consummate our marriage"

"Okay," she said before turning from him and entered into the sitting room.

He felt strange if not uncomfortable.

_What's the matter?_

'_I almost expected her to act a little embarrassed_'

_Give her some credit: she probably grew up being told that she was meant to do it._

Once she was out of the sitting room, she looked to him again and asked, "When?"

"Tonight," he said to her, which she nodded and went into the balcony.

He let out a soft sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he closed his eyes; she reentered the hall and walked towards him, apparently looking at him before she reached over and held his hand.

"Is there…," she paused, as he looked at her, "Is there something the matter?"

"If you consider this wrong, then tell me".

She let go of his hand and frowned, studying his passive face and then stared at his eyes.

"Does this have to do with my age?" she asked before she quickly added, "Does this have to do with how I look? That I have no breasts?"

That last part somewhat caught him off guard as he somewhat furrowed his brow.

"I am old enough to probably be your uncle, and yet you have no problem with that?"

She shook her head.

"It's not surprising that older men have younger wives and I have heard that some older woman have younger men," Freyja replied nonchalantly as she tilted her head.

_She is right about that._

"And I could actually care less about what you look like or if you have breasts or not".

With that, she smiled.

"Unless there is anything you wish for me to know about, then you shouldn't worry about".

"Do you trust me?" he asked, somewhat skeptical as he watched her smile somewhat soften.

"You haven't given me any reasons not to".

* * *

How would you say 'I want to have sex' in a polite manner without it sounding too conceited or too forward? AWKWARD!

And you know something that just mentioning Bandits is clearly FORESHADOWING.


	44. How many times are you interrupted?

Watched War Horse: a story about a boy and his horse and the horse's crazy shenanigans; but it is a good movie (though not exactly one of my favorites). I do remember Jurassic Park and The Land Before Time which were produced by him… ah, those were good times

Though, spoiler alert, I do not understand the Tank scene: Why was it going after the horse? I mean seriously, did the guy driving it think 'Hey, look a horse! Let's go after him!'

APHABETICAL ORDER TIME! WHO-O-O!

BrightWatcher-Yes, Awkward is fun! I tried to think of ways to say it I but failed (I tried the Thesaurus section of Diction. Com but I also failed in finding another way to say it). As for their talk, I wanted to give a little more light onto his view on servants.

Restrained. Freedom- I'm glad you feel that way (about the refreshing and unusual part) as for the last part, its okay, the foreshadowing is going to be a slow one, so don't hold your breath on it

I am on the fence when it comes to doing an M rated section: I am no Mother Teresa, but I sure act all giggly about it

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, nor do I really have something clever to say right here

* * *

Chapter 37

Meeting the Show pony

A third of her feared for the lives in Feinster (even if she had been there a mere few days, being attacked by a dragon wasn't a thing she would wish onto anyone), another third was rather lonely, for she always had Puck with her, and the last third was curious of this place.

"Murtagh".

He stared at her; he had yet again done his little disappearing act when she was looking at the somewhat well kept plants after they spoke to one another.

He brought lunch, bread (it was different from Feinster's), a few slices of individual meat and a few other things yet she could wave off what they spoke.

"Yes Freyja?"

"Why now? You could had sex with me at any time" she said to him, feeling very awkward; granted, she was used to the idea, but she couldn't say 'sex': it was a plain word, but being how this was Murtagh, she had to be mature about it.

"Would you have preferred that I forced you?"

"Not really… Thank you".

What for?" he asked as she looked straight at his eyes: she was now beginning to slightly understand him, but yet again, his eyes were the color of clouds that were about to rain or not.

"For not forcing me".

They said nothing as they ate and once they were done, she collected all the things (rather awkwardly but she wanted to help), and again Murtagh led her out of the apartment and through a now vibrant halls that flowed with servants.

"Hasn't Galbatorix urged to have a child?" he asked her suddenly, somewhat surprising her as he was talking to her in public about this.

"Not entirely... I mean, I would like to have a child," she said with a small smile, remembering when she was lived back in her home and of that strange dream, "I have been around a lot of children… Though there were times that I got annoyed with them, but despite those times, I just loved them".

"You get annoyed?" Murtagh sarcastically remarked, but it wasn't in his usual way: it was somewhat toned down.

"I am not-"

"Is that you _Murtagh_?" a rather loud yet bubbly voice came from behind them.

* * *

They turned to see Galiana wearing baby blue gown as she had ribbons on her wrist and a sapphire silk choker around her neck while her brown hair was done in a messy bun.

"Why didn't you stop by? I was wondering when you would get here!" she gushed as she looked from him to Freyja, "You must be _Freyja_: you look just like a porcelain doll, I am so _jealous_!"(He saw his wife somewhat cringe) "And what's this? Don't you have a servant? Why are you making her carry those dirty dishes?" (And she added with a mischievous grin) "Are you keeping her on her toes?"

"I wanted to do it," Freyja said to Galiana, who cocked her head to the side and stopped a maid in her tracks with just a mere look.

"Of course you did," she said with a polite smile before turning to the maid in one fluid turn, "Take these from her please"

The maid curtsied and took the plates away, disappearing into the throng of servants.

"How was the jousting tournament?" he asked her, which she smirked.

"Oh, it was fun: would've been better if you were in it," she teased, placing her hand on her cheek, "I know dinner is going to be so fun being how Gregory and Paul will be on the defensive".

"Who are they?" Freyja politely asked which again, Galiana had that fox-like grin on her face.

"They're my brothers: I have 7 in all who enjoy believing Murtagh has taken fancy in me!"

He coughed, causing her to giggle.

"They are your brothers, I wish you do not encourage any more gossip than there already is," Murtagh said, lowering his brow while the girl did not seem to catch the hint.

"Oh come now, _Mur_tagh, you have to admit is funny"

'_Yes, to_ you _it is_,' he thought, not caring to remember all those glares his way as well as those taunts and such.

"They should meet her! I know they would think you to be the cutest little thing!" Galiana declared as she clapped her hands together.

Again Freyja's smile tightened, apparently not liking being refered to as anything small or perhaps as a doll.

Going between them, she hooked their arms into hers and led them happily through the halls with her head held high.

Murtagh, too use to this, simply allowed himself to be dragged and from what he could glance over, Freyja didn't seem to mind too much (or was supposedly used to it as well).

Galiana led them into a grand hall where three out of her seven brothers stood, talking to one another until their gaze zeroed in on Murtagh.

"Look who I found!" Galiana declared as she unhooked her hands and gestured to Murtagh and Freyja, "I just found them walking about and decided to take them with me to meet you!"

Paul was with them, his brow somewhat furrowed as he slightly fingered his thin bread which made him look like a goat, while Tharos, who didn't seem to care for Galiana's antics, looked at the couple mildly, and Aromas took a sip of his goblet and was apparently eying Freyja as well.

"It's good to see you here, _Lord_ Murtagh," Aromas said as he lifted the goblet to his head, "And who might that child be? Is that your new maid Galiana? If so, be sure to remind her that she shouldn't ignore her duties to flirt with a man of high rank".

Murtagh took note that now the blonde was insulted: she averted her eyes and her mouth became tighter.

"I believe that is his _wife_, brother," Tharos said, looking to his brother with a weary glance, "Even I who do not listen to gossip knows of that".

"Are you sure, Tharos? I thought she died," Paul retorted as his gaze did not waver from Murtagh.

"She is very much alive," Murtagh said, cutting into their tiny chat, "And I would think it improper for men of your _rank_ to ignore women of her _rank_"

"Pardon us, Lady Freyja," Tharos said with little pity while his brothers added only a few nods to her.

"Oh, come now, brothers, she is a nice girl! Right, Freyja-dear?"

"I… do not think-"

"See?"

Despite the slight redness in her cheeks and her tight smile, she did not seem too entirely insulted, but if she was, she did a good job in hiding it.

* * *

It's oddly easy to make fun of Freyja I guess, and it is also funny! Can't wait to introduce her brother


	45. Nothing clever here

Hey people

I am so far being obsessed with Hunger Games: I enjoy the concept (it's brutal) and to me is a little better than Twilight where you get a BIG FIGHT. But that didn't stop me from reading 'Hunger Pains': a parody off of Hunger Games; I think it is really funny, making fun of a few things that I like.

They changed Rue to Run who is a 6 month baby (seriously), Gatsby is from District 7, Cato's renamed as Archie Nemesis , Prim is Prin (short for Princess who is such a jerk), Kantkiss Neverclean is really clueless to almost EVERYTHING and Pita is a doughy guy while Gale is Carol and is quite girly hawt guy.

Bright Watcher- Yup: don't get me wrong, Roran is a good guy, but he will probably never get his 'save the day' in a long time. It is never mentioned about Halstead's wife, and to me, it seems that Galiana is the only girl in their family (so to me, they are bound to be a little protective over her)

Restrained. Freedom- Freyja and Murtgah will get more conversations soon (some a little more heated than others but soon). I wanted to show how different each place is different rather than people being the same. And here is your answer below!

Despite the fact that I already mention rotting corpses, put someone dying, two people being beheaded, some mentions of torture along with choking, a moment of contemplating suicide, mention of death, and two people beating up on a girl: I won't do a sex scene (which after having got all of that above from the top of my head is quite funny: tell me if I forgot to add something).

I will do a cut away IMPLYING that they will do it but no detail into it: just the classic turning off the light and BAM, next point of view.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, but if I did, I would have more than one moment where a character is dressed in drag, preferably Arya... (WAIT! Wait... she's a girl... sorry!)

* * *

Chapter 39

Such a nice day well spent

If a human could live off just words alone, Freyja was sure that they would have long since killed themselves from overeating with the conversations they had.

Even though Galiana meant well (or so she hoped) the woman made it apparent to remind the younger how tiny and child-like she was, saying that she was only that small when she was 13.

Freyja was 18, not 13, and she was a woman in some accounts despite how she looked.

Murtagh seemed too use to it as he ate, as if he was blatantly ignoring Galiana who oddly answered each question she asked him.

The gray eyed woman could see that Galiana's brothers, all six of them, either glowered at Murtagh or ignored him as they ate; it seemed that Freyja was invisible and for once she didn't mind it.

And when dinner wasn't enough, the bubbly woman insisted upon stories: ghost stories to be exact.

Freyja never really heard any ghost stories and while some were frightening, she would remember Thorn and then think of Saphira: if she was his size, then she would be a nightmare to those she was against, not to mention Feinster.

She remembered the people she left behind and felt bad for even the ones who tried to kill her; all those people were going to suffer whether they deserved it or not.

Despite the stories had ended, Galiana kept urging the two of them to stay, but Murtagh made it very apparent that while the stories were entertaining, it was late. But Freyja knew that only he could handle so much of the woman's boisterous attitude.

Once they were far enough away, Freyja couldn't help but laugh as they walked through the dimly lit hallways.

"What?"

"She seems to like you".

Murtagh scoffed, or maybe groaned in annoyance.

"You too?"

Freyja tilted her head.

"She tends to like being around you, to try and impress you probably the only way she can…"

But Murtagh shook his head to this.

"She just enjoys the attention: to her, if she isn't being talked about, then she takes it upon herself to get people talking about her," he retorted with narrowed eyes, "She tends to all news is good news".

"No, she just wants to get _your_ attention," Freyja insisted with pursed lips, before slightly correcting herself, "I mean, does she usually act like this all of the time?"

"She does, but once she has her mind set, people talk," he responded before he gave a surprising smirk, "But I do know people will surely talk a little about your nicknames, _little doll_".

Freyja flinched out of habit; what did she have to prove in order to not look like a doll?

Make herself look like whore? Wear shoes that made her taller?

"Please don't call me that," she replied with a somewhat sour frown, "I don't like that".

He lifted a brow.

"So, that is what you do not like: you know many women would kill themselves just to have an ounce of your looks if it matters at all," he stated, still having his smirk on his face before shrugging, "However I do not believe they would want your height".

"If it is not one it is always the other".

He simply shook his head and held his hand to her, which she took it.

"Freyja, I…," he paused, his eyes again like clouds as he stared slightly ahead before turning to her, "I will be going back to Feinster in a few days time".

She stopped, which he mirrored her, studying her as she slightly opened her mouth.

"Are you…," she paused, quickly soaking in this information, "Are you going to protect it?"

He was silent for a few moments.

"I will"

She smiled and brashly hugged him; he stiffly stood there.

"Thank you," She said to him, not caring if he asked her a question or not: it didn't matter for there was still hope for Feinster after all.

* * *

Seeing how he had one awkward moment in one day didn't seem so bad: so why did he feel bad?

_Tell the truth: I doubt she would hate you, though I don't see why Galbatorix is putting so much stress upon you right now_.

Murtagh said nothing to Thorn, nor did he speak to Freyja who was beaming when they entered the apartment: was it him telling her that he was going to protect Feinster or…

_You are such a hypocrite to be so nervous, Murtagh_, Thorn playfully teased, _Is it because Freyja reminds you of a virgin that you don't want to hurt her? Oh, I do believe I see some feelings towards her!_

'Thorn,' Murtagh snapped, causing the Dragon to chortle, '_Can you leave my mind for the night? The last thing I want is a peanut gallery_'

_Oh come now, I should be the one acting all shy and such when it comes to thiss: I am the _virgin_ here, remember?  
_

Murtagh pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance; they usually avoided that subject mostly because it was something no person or animal should actually elaborate upon.

'_Okay, I am going to have_ sex _with her, shag her, fornicate with her, fuck her: whatever verb you want to use,_ _I will be doing it tonight_ _so can you_ please _leave my mind alone_?'

_Okay, maybe I _will_: no need to get all_ defensive _on me, _Thorn chuckled as he then jokingly added before leaving, _No need to bite my head off Murtagh_.

It was a touchy subject: the kind where no man or probably no beast wanted or cared to elaborate on virginity and quite frankly, Murtagh preferred to keep it that way.

And that was the second awkward moment of the day, lovely.

Going back to reality, they were in the bedroom, the lamp was lit and Freyja was in a pure white chemise, painfully taking out the pins from her braided bun until her braid fell down.

It was not when she was unbraiding her hair was when he was by her, touching her shoulder; she looked up at him with an uncertain smile.

"Can you… turn off the light?"

He shrugged.

"Very well.

Make that number 3.

* * *

Like Feinster he was given a bed and a hot supper with the other servants who lived in the castle, but unlike Feinster, nobody seemed at all suspicious of him: he had seen at least a handful of people without their hands.

While he would need to ask one of the servants as to find where Murtagh usually sulked but now Freyja was probably going to be with him.

That night Eragon laid awake, thinking it over as he was sure (or at least he was hoping) that somehow the two of them got along, but then he corrected himself.

'_Murtagh is a nice man, if not a bit rough, but he isn't like the few who are carelessly throw their weight around or hurts someone for fun_,' he thought, wishing to hear Saphira's knowing voice instead of his own, '_And even though Freyja is not quite a forceful person, she is kind and gentle but still naïve: it's good that the two balance each other out…_'

He rubbed his eyes as he stared at the cot above him: frankly it seemed like his and Arya's relationship, but while he fell for her willingly, Murtagh and Freyja were arranged.

He closed his eyes and sighed, drifting off to sleep…

_A young man wearing polished, silver Elvish armor sat upon a ivory throne, the world around him shifted as if he was underwater as he looked forward with white, ghost like eyes… the room looked ancient as it had runes and figures carved displayed on the walls and was lit like the sun was above them yet he knew it was an enclosed room… Before the young man and down a few stairs were three dragons: red, blue, and sea green crouched side by side as it was apparent two riders knelt before the man on the throne… but the feeling of foreboding filled him, as if they were not willingly bowing to this young probable tyrant…_

_ "_Eragon_," came Galbatorix's mocking voice from nowhere, echoing throughout the large ancient room, "_Do you really think that the heroes always win?_"_

He shot up and looked about: already the others were getting up yet he couldn't get himself to get out of bed.

'_What did I just _see_?_' he dreaded, his mouth was dry yet his forehead was moist with sweat, '_what is going to _happen_?_'

The Shadeslayer knew he would not get an answer by asking himself yet he feared not knowing it and knowing it at the same time.


	46. So, about last night

There is this cooking competition called 'Sweet Genius': the show host has this face that could be really nice... or really freaky... I like his accent for some odd reason.

But I can just watch them cook and whatnot without getting tired of watching them cook!

BrighterWatcher- I am not much of a fan of Nasuada (even though I support Nasuada/Orrin) but I won't downplay her: I do not see any reason in doing that. I understand if a writer needs some sort of antagonist (not that Galbatorix isn't one already) or a force to keep them apart, but that shouldn't mean they should sacrifice a characters personality to fit. Bleh, well, that is just me but thank you for the compliment.

Restrained. Freedom-What? What are you getting this affection thing? They're just not-so-good-friends… with benefits… ye-e-ea-a-ah. Murtagh has to talk to Freyja about using her to save Thorn, THEN it will be a good relationship! This chapter will hint to the dream, yo; can't say much for the next chapter.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, but if I did, I would have totally made Galbatorix more time to show how much of a douche he is

* * *

Chapter 40

The day after

The next morning felt different: not in a strange, abnormal way yet not in a life altering way either.

Murtagh just felt weird.

_Rise and shine, my dear sleeping beauty_, Thorn jokingly taunted, feeling up Murtagh's mind with the sense of the bright sun and fresh air from above, _How did you sleep?_

'_Better than you, obviously_,' he retorted, causing the Dragon to give a gruff laugh.

After he was dressed, he noticed Freyja was looking for something as she wore her chemise; he cringed, seeing yet again how much like a child she was.

"What is it?"

"Do you have a spare brush?" she asked as she fingered one of her blonde curls, "I don't really like using anyone else's brush…"

"I would have expected that you would be used to it," he replied as he remembered that there was only one here, "and the last time I checked, I do not have lice".

She somewhat laughed but her smile tightened.

"I don't really want to be reminded about those," she said before shaking her head, "I am going to… Try and ask for one"

"Do you want me to get someone for you?"

"No… Thank you but I can do it myself"

"Very well… but just be sure to watch out for Galiana: if she sees you remotely like this, then she would take it upon herself to dress you up".

With this Freyja made a face.

"She wouldn't do that… would she?"

"You have yet to fully know her… but yes, she would".

* * *

Murtagh had to leave after breakfast, and Freyja, dressed in yesterdays dress, literally had to work up her nerve just to step into the inside courtyard. She double checked to make sure no one was in there before walking toward the fountain and sighed as she eyed the water.

Freyja did not feel safe without someone with her, and since she did not have Puck, she was entirely alone; yet she had to turn around and refuse Murtagh's help.

She didn't want to admit that she had that creeping fear that someone was going to attack her and yet despite that fear, she found it almost refreshing to be alone as she was back in Urû'baen.

Then it took a few more minutes of goading herself to actually reach the other side of the room and at least five minutes for her to open the door.

Once she out, she felt anxious, as if someone was going to suddenly appear, but she reminded herself that if Murtagh felt there was anyone going to hurt her, he would not have asked for her if she wanted him around and that somewhat calmed her down.

Memorizing the few things that could lead her back here, she tried to find a servant but did not have any luck. Then she allowed her mind to move from her defenses and felt around before feeling one coming this way. Curiously, she entered the servant's mind and found that he was bringing a new servant to to serve under both her and Murtagh.

Freyja frowned and was about to dig deeper, as if there was more to this than he was thinking but stopped herself, not wanting to hurt the poor person.

Deciding to meet them, she continued forward until she saw a familiar face with the servant whose mind she looked into.

"Bergan?"

The servant and Bergan stopped and bowed to her.

"Why are you here?" she blurted, somewhat cringing at her own forwardness.

"Oh," he stopped before looking to the servant and then back to her, "I had to help transport Lady Elisabeth here".

"But why are you _here_?" she asked, gesturing to him, "if you were to escort her, shouldn't you be put else where?"

"He is to serve under you, milady... since he had served under you, right?" The servant said which she politely nodded.

"Thank you… but I need a few things to be sent to my quarters please…," she said as she asked for the few things she needed and a few hand-me-down dresses (she did not know how long she would be here), but when it came to the dresses the servant was a bit unsure.

"I am sorry to say this but while we do have rather old dresses, we would have to tailor which I could send after lunch if you do not mind?" he said which she nodded.

"Yes please, thank you".

He bowed, leaving Bergan and Freyja alone, but she was happy to be with someone she knew, even if he had one hand.

"You must have left last night, for you weren't there when I said good bye," Freyja said with a sad yet hopeful smile, "I guess you already know that most of them will be leaving before 'it' happens?"

He nodded.

"I do… it is good to see you are well… but may I ask how did you get here so fast?" he asked as they walked back to the apartment.

"I rode on Thorn," she said, somewhat smiling at the experience, "It was completely safe, Murtagh made sure of it".

* * *

Freyja helped him with each task that needed more than one person; Eragon was relieved at how she was willing to help yet every time she had her back towards him, he tried to look for any sign of bruising.

Granted, there was little need to check, but then he had never seen the two of them together for only a small amount of time.

'_It's just me_,' he reminded himself, feeling guilty for even assuming Murtagh would hurt the young girl, '_Though Murtagh has never given me the impression of a lover, but I have never seen him describe a girl or have been around one since Nasuada…_'

Eragon recalled how interested Murtagh had shown himself to be in the leader of the Varden before she was even the Leader: by just their first and probably only visit alone (from what only he knew anyway) his older half brother seemed to like her. But being how things were turning out, Nasuada couldn't afford allowing her feelings (if she had any) for Murtagh to sabotage her father's legacy.

After they were done doing what little was to be done, they both walked towards the kitchen area, which Eragon memorized despite only going there once.

As they walked, Eragon could see that Freyja kept looking about, much like how he did when he had time to through Farthen Dûr and Ellesmere; he fondly grinned at the memory before something caught his eye.

Granted, he knew she had gray eyes, but they were rather lighter compared to Murtagh who had slightly darker gray eyes, for Freyja's were not frigidly white, but more of a dove gray…

Then it hit him like a punch to the stomach.

He couldn't recall any other features of the young man but those eyes alone and seeing Freyja's eyes, while it could mean many possibilities, gave the possibility that _that was her son_, _his nephew_.

But what of the throne? The only throne remotely like that was in Ellesmere, and it was flanked by several other thrones; whichever it was, the boy wore Elvish armor, which meant he was probably trained by the elves, but surely they wouldn't allow yet another Foresworn to happen.

And what of Galbatorix? He did not see the Mad King anywhere yet his voice was there.

It frankly frightened Eragon that Galbatorix would still be alive and that his nephew was most likely serve under him but that did not explain the third dragon. It was turquoise not emerald green as Arya had said it was.

He felt like he was given a compass yet did not know where to go, and it annoyed him.

"Bergan," Freyja's voice gently called to him back to reality, "Is there something the matter?"

He blinked as they had stopped, with her quizzically examining him.

"No, Milady… it's nothing," he lied with a soft smile.

* * *

Not my best but eh


	47. It's elementary, dear Thorn

I watched the Muppets Movie: granted, I never entirely watched the miniseries, but I watched Muppets take Manhattan, Muppets from Outer Space, and (my favorite) Muppets Treasure Island. The Muppets movie was quite funny... But WHERE WAS RIZZO THE RAT? I thought I saw him on a board that was being carried during the stage-cleaning montage and in the ending song with the rats.

It's really funny an old reviewer, TheLast Rider, asked me 'Why do you even have Douglas?' and there is a reason why I have him there and it is NOT for the love triangle thing! (Well it would be a rectangle since we're getting something between Freyja and Eragon and there is already some friction between Murtagh and Eragon). Plus, I noticed I tend to be slow with my story thing while others are real fast like bam-bam-BOOM!

BrightWatcher- I am glad you like Freyja (she's basically my rendition of a fairy tale princess) and yeah, while Nasuada is bossy, she gets the job done (even though she made some clear mistakes like making Roran go into battle after she whipped him half to death and refused to let the Dwarves fight against the Laughing Dead).

Restrained. Freedom- Of course it is, most of all of Eragon's dreams tend to fall into that category! And yeah, Eragon is like the best bro (whether related by blood, law, or whatever) anyone could ask even though he has his moments of being stupid. But he hasn't seen Murtagh as we've seen him.

This chapter is so to give some hints you might find useless and for Eragon and Murtagh to meet one another which sets the stage for the next chapter!

I do not own the Inheritance, but I am going to check to see if someone did a cross over for the Inheritance Cycle and MLP:FiM (don't ask, I just wanna know!) and I am also going to have to re-check the chapters too

* * *

Chapter 41

Questions and clues

Something was unsettling about the magicians that had returned, as if a beast was stalking in plain sight, ready to attack.

Murtagh narrowed his eyes to the lot but did not speak to any of them as they did the same.

_I smell something dead_, Thorn told his rider, the dragon's head hovering just inches from the ground as Murtagh stood by, _Like a Shade_.

'_Usually they're easy to spot_,' Murtagh replied, yet he couldn't help but agree: it did feel like a Shade was near.

He trained for a good two hour with Thorn and was now supervising the magicians that returned this morning from Orthiad: they gained the Dwarven city but it somewhat crippled the spell casters, and so it was the Red Dragon Rider's duty to see who knew what.

'_Which do you smell it the most from?_' he asked, glancing at Thorn for a moment.

_That guy with the blonde hair: he looks paler than all the rest, and that woman with the brown hair, for she has apparently more energy than the others_.

'_I_ _will see which is from the Desert Outpost_,' Murtagh replied as he watched yet another spell was cast, _'Something about that place made Galbatorix want to choose now to find it, and there has to be something the divides them from us_'.

_Like horses._

'_Exactly like horses_'.

After the very last one had showed what they could do, he tallied that 12 out of the 15 were more than capable of taking care of themselves and the 3 said they were getting help from those 12, which each person agreed to it.

Either way, it was fairly cut and dry which made it strange: it was as if they were afraid of something yet they were completely composed, as if nothing was wrong.

Finding a captain he asked about the magicians and that if he had any idea if any were from the desert outpost, who he was fortunately in luck: the man was one of the captains who were a part of the attack.

"Well three I think: the guy with the scar across his face?" the captain said pointing to a thin man with indeed a nasty scar that corrupted his features, "He is definitely from there, Jacob I think his name is, the woman, Sage, with the covered head is from there and the blonde man, Douglas, who looks sick is from there".

"Have they done anything… abnormal?"

The other man shrugged.

"They were normal until Orthiad, now it seems like they have created some sort of hold on the others," the captain explained with a frown, "Do you wish us to report this?"

"I will keep an eye on them, but be wary," Murtagh said before nodding to the captain, "You're dismissed"

"Thank you sir," the man said, bowing his head and leaving.

_What do you think of it?_

'_I will ask Freyja… granted, I doubt she would know everyone from there, but probably she knows one of them_'.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Lady Freyja, but the dresses we can alter for you belonged to Lady Galiana when she was 12," the tailor said with an innocent smile, not knowing how Freyja would react.

The gray eyed girl's smile twitched: yet another unintentional insult from Galiana.

It frustrated her to no end that she would be wearing a child's attire but then beggars could not be choosers.

"It is all right," Freyja said with a forced smile, "I very much appreciate new clothing though".

"Ah, I am glad you feel that way," the tailor replied, apparently looking relieved that she did not yell at him, "I can have 3 dresses sent to you now and four by tomorrow".

"Why thank you".

"Would you like anything else? There are shoes you could perfectly fit into," he added which she stopped herself from almost cringing.

"Please do send for them," she said as the man bowed and left the Study and then the apartment.

It was then she let out a loud sigh.

"Forgive me for my forwardness… but you do not like being reminded of your size?" Bergan said with a guilty smile.

"It is alright," she said with an embarrassed smile, scratching the back of her ear, "If I looked like a grown woman, then I would only have to worry about my shoe size, my looks, and if my dress looks flattering…"

For a moment she looked unsettled.

"Is it about Barst?"

She looked away for a moment before she turned back to him, almost opening her mouth to say it wasn't but instead she simply shrugged.

What Barst said to her still disgusted her, and she guessed that he would have come to her with the same proposition or worse: he could have…

"Forgive me, milady," Bergan said, stopping her from thinking the worst, "It was not my place to speak".

She simply shook her head before looking around.

"Do you know where there is a library? Most of these books are not exactly what I read," she replied, gesturing to the only and quite small bookcase in the room.

"No, but I do not mind exploring with you".

Freyja somewhat laughed at what he said; she wasn't alone and that was all she needed to feel safe.

* * *

She wasn't in their chambers, which was rather strange, but then, he did leave her there with little to do.

_Without her rat dog, I guess she is bound to explore… though is it wise for her to be alone?_

'_Aroughs is a lot safer than Feinster: being how they probably know that Freyja is my wife, I doubt they would do anything stupid_,' Murtagh pointed out as he closed his eyes and sensed about, '_They would be fools to even consider biting the hand the feeds them_'.

The red dragon rider was certain that the nobles would kill their own mothers if Galbatorix told them to do so in exchange for power or more money to line their already velvet pockets.

He was able to locate Freyja in the main library, which made him somewhat sigh: this meant he had a higher chance at getting caught by Galiana, but it was a sacrifice worth doing, he guessed.

Casting the spell that hid him, he quietly walked the halls to the library she was at, passing by each person who did not know that he was walking amongst them.

It was not until he reached the library when he took the spell off, much to three servants and 4 nobles surprise (they had yet to fully grasp the secrets that Galbatorix and Murtagh knew) him appearing out of thin air was just as good as teleportation or dark magic to them (not that it was, but he did not stop them from talking that way).

As he entered the Library, he had yet again the 'pleasure' of meeting _that man_ again: this was not by chance at all.

_First the magicians, and now that man: I doubt it is Eragon, but perhaps he is a Spy._

'_Have I done anything wrong to be spied upon?_'

_Perhaps to spy on Freyja? Who knows if she is in leagues with the Varden or something else…? Something about that outpost makes anyone from there a suspect but to what?_

He pursed his lips, feeling as if he had gained some ground (but not entirely for sure) as he greeted both Freyja and the one armed servant.

"I see they transferred you," Murtagh asked as Freyja looked between the two silently before he turned to her, "Is he assigned to us?"

"He is," she politely replied before turning to the man.

"Pardon my rudeness, my lord… I am Bergan," he softly said bowing deeply towards him; Murtagh could almost hear a rasp, as if the man was being choked.

"Very well, Bergan, if you are to serve under us, do not steal the fine china".

Freyja blinked, somewhat narrowing her eyes at him, which was new.

"Despite what he did, he is a hard worker and trustworthy," she said, coming to Bergan's defense, "And… that was _awfully_ forward".

"_Forgive_ my forwardness," Murtagh sarcastically retorted, "But I doubt that will be the last he will hear of that".

Freyja sighed, slightly shaking her head at him.

"Very well… Freyja do you know anyone by the name of Jacob? Sage? Douglas?" he asked her, getting a reaction from the last name, "Blonde hair? Pale skin?"

"Tan," She corrected, "Slightly tall and thin… why do you ask?"

Murtagh could see that she was excited, and he could see that something about Douglas was special; but he couldn't afford to anything to happen unless he knew for sure what was going on.

Something about those magicians was unsettling, and he believed if Freyja was to be included in with the wizards, it would make matters worse.

The red dragon rider wished to investigate each matter separately.

"Nothing… someone said they knew a Douglas that matched that description".

* * *

Here is a tiny snippet from the next chapter:

"Why?" Eragon demanded, somewhat recovering from his stupor, "Why shouldn't she know that her own brother-in-law is her servant?"

"Because she doesn't deserve to carry the shame of having a rider whose dragon has slaughtered several of innocent people. Unlike you, I do it because I am ordered to, but what of Saphira?"

* * *

"Well, looks like we're at the end of this chapter"

"Can't say much for the story!"

"D'Oh-ho-ho-ho!"


	48. Manure just got real

I've read 'Holes'... you know, the book? Or the movie with Shia Labeouf?

Yeah, rather liked the book... ahh... BUT NOT AS MUCH AS MY LOVE OF THE MOVIES!

Did you know that Gary Oldman was FINALLY nominated after 30 years of acting? And it was for Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy: I watched it and I thought it was good... though it is not exactly a James Bond sort of thing, but it was still great (even a little graphic here and there).

He's kinda an inspiration for me: he is a good actor yet he acts because he likes to and is damn good at it; I _love_ reviews but that doesn't mean I am not going to say 'I won't update unless I get "x" amount of reviews' nor will I ask for people to review. I update whenever I feel like it or something like that

BrighteWatcher- From what I heard is that the Varden are being lazy and playing cards or something... Supposedly Arya got someone pregnant or something and refuses to say that the baby is hers (we all know she is lying), and Roran is still waving his hammer around.  
Well, we will get another point of view soon, but Murtagh and Thorn are getting their subplot, Freyja is going to pull a Princess Peach _YET AGAIN_, and Eragon... well he's Eragon...

Restrained. Freedom- I know right? You'd think Douglas was a Shade or something, and now Murtagh's first mystery shall be solved!

I do not own the inheritance cycle... AND THERE ARE NO CROSSOVER WITH MLP:FiM! C'MON!D:

* * *

Chapter 41

Things coming into the light

"Why did Galbatorix send you here?"

Eragon felt uneasy, being at the mercy of Murtagh meant that there was a good chance that someone was going to get hurt: Eragon heard the red dragon Rider cast a series of spells that made it so no noise would be heard from outside the room, and Murtagh could do as he pleased, for he could easily heal any broken bone he caused.

Throughout the day, the one armed man felt the unwanted gaze of his older half brother but that was whenever Freyja was not looking.

"I… do not know what you are talking about…"

Murtagh crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

"Freyja told me that you helped escort the Duke of Feinster's daughter here; I then find that only one man was with you, who happened to be Monco," the red dragon rider explained his voice surprisingly low yet his malice was easy to feel, "Monco is a formidable warrior, and with the problem with the bandits, it is understandable that only those trusted would guard the Dukes child… But why do they choose a thief instead of their own best to escort the future duchess to Feinster?"

"All I was asked was to escort her, and once I was here, I was asked to serve".

"I know you are a spy, so there is no need to keep beating around the bush".

Eragon paused; Murtagh thought he was a spy?

There would be no reason for Galbatorix to have a spy to be around Murtagh unless there was something that was going on without him knowing it.

"I am not a spy".

"Then what are you?"

"I…," Eragon paused, feeling somewhat stumped, "I am a prisoner, that is all".

Murtagh narrowed his eyes as he walked and stopped just three steps away from him before uttering a strange Word.

Eragon cringed, half expecting to feel pain; he shielded himself for a moment before looking to see Murtagh staring at him.

"The bastard," Murtagh managed to say as it seemed he did not know how to react, "He _did_ do it".

Eragon frowned, letting his arms fall but he was still ready for an attack.

"I see Galbatorix had used his beloved mask, hasn't he, Eragon?" Murtagh sneered yet still appeared uncertain, "I never would have expected him to allow us to actually be together: you must have truly scared him when you managed to escape".

"H…How did you-?"

"That is none of your business," Murtagh growled before dangerously smirking, "You're simply lucky that Galbatorix did not saw off your knees and arms, or pluck out your eyes… But surprisingly he is being lenient: making you be Freyja's servant and all"

"Yes, I guess I am lucky to be a servant than a pet," he retorted, getting a sift fist to his stomach and then slammed to the ground.

"To think, I thought I should be worried: well that's one thing I could care less about".

"_To think_, Galbatorix's weapon is afraid of a _crippled one armed man_," Eragon said as Murtagh kicked his stomach.

"Now Eragon, I would expect you to understand my _predicament _and my_ reasons_… It is funny I believed you to be so serene and understanding…Or are you truly a hypocrite who claims to be forgiving?"

Eragon gritted his teeth, but even though he hated Murtagh for doing this, he couldn't blame his older half brother. Eragon did have a better life than he did, and in some ways was far luckier than he was, but Murtagh had already dug his own grave with the actions he had done.

This had to stop.

If the two of them wanted to be free of Galbatorix and to stop what was going to happen, they had to unite, and they had to forgive one another's mistakes.

"Murtagh… enough…," Eragon finally breathed, keeping his eye on the red dragon rider, "I do not know…what Galbatorix is up to, but whatever it is, _your son has something to do with it_".

As if stabbed in the gut, Murtagh took a few steps back; now it was his turn to be surprised.

"How did you…"

"In a dream: I have had these strange premonitions ever since I have became a rider," Eragon explained slowly getting up, "I had one in Ellesmere about the Battle of the Burning Plains: the very one which I laid on the ground and you pointed to me. Granted, it did not foretell of us being brothers, but it showed what was to happen".

"But how does this pertain to… _my son_?" Murtagh impatiently demanded, which Eragon managed to control his temper and held back a retort.

"In the dream I had last night there is an ancient room: covered with runes and images with an ivory throne in it," Eragon said as he closed his eyes and sighed, "I can only remember that the young man wore Elvish armor and that he had ghost white eyes".

"That could be anyone," Murtagh remarked, but it sounded as if he was trying to convince himself that.

"No, for even if this young man can be anyone, I _feel_ that he is truly your son…," Eragon said as he opened his eyes, "That he had probably somehow fallen into Galbatorix's clutches".

Murtagh clenched his hands into fists yet he did not step forward to strike Eragon down.

"Is there anything else to it… your _dream_?"

"Yes… we are there as well as Thorn and Saphira along with a dragon of sea green scales between Saphira and Thorn.

Murtagh shook his head.

"The last egg is an _emerald_ green… Then would this mean that there is going to be more dragons? But if there are more dragons, then does this also mean Galbatorix had restored the entire dragon populace?"

"I… don't know… I felt that he was there yet I did not see him".

Murtagh grunted and was silent for a few moments.

"Murtagh, why are you trying to have a child?"

"That is none of _your_ concern".

"It is," Eragon replied, growing frustrated with his older half brother, "For _he_ will be under Galbatorix's control, and you and I will have to be there to stop him. If you truly hate Galbatorix, then why are you giving him another means to hold over you? Why are you forcing your child to become like you or _worse_?"

The gray eyed man was silent, studying his younger brother before finally saying something.

"Would you kill Saphira in order to protect your cousin?"

Eragon blinked, caught off guard by this.

"I… Why would… No, I…," recovering quickly Eragon shook his head, "I wouldn't sacrifice neither of them, I would find a way out of it".

"_Are you sure_?" the red dragon rider humorlessly laughed, "Even if the lives of many depended on it? Even if Nasuada orders it?"

Why did Murtagh ask him such a thing?

Yet Eragon remained quiet.

"I see," the red dragon rider stiffly remarked before using the ancient language upon Eragon and then said, "You look the same as you did, so no one will wonder why a masked man is walking about. I've only scratched the surface of his mask: that mask is a quite powerful and would need a lot of time and effort take it off. Now as far as this goes, you are still Bergan, Eragon is nowhere to be found, and you are still a servant. If you tell Freyja about _us _orwhoyou are, then I will return you back to Galbatorix with one leg to match your arm: the less people know of where you are the better".

"Why?" Eragon demanded, somewhat recovering from his stupor, "Shouldn't she know that her brother-in-law is her servant?"

"She doesn't deserve to carry the shame of having a rider whose dragon has slaughtered several of innocent people. Unlike you, I do it because I am ordered to, but what of Saphira?"

* * *

_Murtagh, why did you not tell me?_

There was little he could hide now, and now he couldn't care less: Thorn had already pieced together all that he heard and Murtagh made it no secret about what he meant.

Eragon left shortly after and now Murtagh was in the bedroom, sitting on the bed where Freyja slept with her back towards him.

_Was this why you've taken interest into Freyja?_

'_I did what I needed to do_,' Murtagh replied, already weary of everything, '_It was either you or my _son_'_

But what about the mention of ghost white eyes? That did not make sense: neither he nor Freyja had that kind of eyes.

_And_ _you chose to sacrifice your own flesh and blood for me?_ Thorn hissed, not hiding his disgust, _I did not expect this from you! How can you be so selfish?_

'_Selfish? You say that I am selfish?_' Murtagh challenged, '_you know how Saphira will not stop until she finds Eragon: you've only had a few battles with her when she is in her enraged state. I've seen and felt the wounds she had given you, I've healed every wound and cast any and every spell that could avoid you getting any more hurt than you've already gotten. And when she goes to Feinster, how will you be able to fare _withou_t me?'_

What_? Have you gone _mad_-!_

'_Not I, Galbatorix: he himself told me that if I do not do this, you shall face her alone_'.

Murtagh knew Thorn was strong, and the red dragon knew this as well, but with an enraged Saphira, she had raw strength and probably elves with her while if Thorn was by himself, he would be at her mercy.

_If I were a female, I would have become no better than broodmare like Freyja, but with me being a male, I am but a mere piece in a game like you_, Thorn replied, his anger had left him and he sounded as weary as Murtagh, _I am sorry to call you selfish but is it really worth sacrificing your own son?_

'_I sell my soul than have you killed before me_,' Murtagh said as he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, '_What else could I do? He will keep sending us doing these suicide missions until she is pregnant and all those times he could have it that you go alone if he does not have proof… I do not want to keep waking up wondering if he will send you to your execution_'.

Thorn went silent and Murtagh rubbed his eyes.

_Then tell her_.

'_What?_'

_Tell her why you've suddenly taken an interest in her and what will become of your son_.

Murtagh looked over his shoulder, wondering if Freyja was even capable of hating someone.

_Understand Murtagh, she cannot blame you for not telling her the truth_.

* * *

NO, THORN! DO-O-ON'T! THEY'RE JUST STARTING TO WARM UP TO EACH OTHER!

Pft, whatever, it's not like she ISN'T going to be pregnant anyway... unless I somehow kill Thorn off with NO THANKS TO SAPHIRA! That's right: I don't care if I am burnt to a crisp, she is such a jerk.

Alternate Scene-

Eragon- Dude, why are you such a d**k?

Murtagh- it's usually how people usually write me: it's either that or I whine and get drunk and reminisce about my 'dark past' and how bad I got it or I have a hair-trigger temper which causes me to physically destroy things around me as I whine

Eragon- Hm... Right: continue being a d**k

Murtagh- Thank you


	49. Were you high when you had this dream?

I've been on a soap box in a few chapters, meh...

And I am going on it again! What is up with how writers here write Galbatorix? Seriously, just because he went easy on Nasuada doesn't mean he is a push over (well... let's hope not). Is this great big bad king gonna let lowly people bad talk him? Just use Letta and he believes that'll 'tame them'? Pft, yeah right!

Off with their tongue! Kill them, whatever, and even if they were one of his kids, he can kill one and have another take their place, and there is no reason to teach them to be powerful if they can turn on you: only have it that only you can stomp them out.

Restrained. Freedom - Na-a-ah, Eragon isn't a d**k, he is just oblivious to the things we the readers/writer know; we cannot blame him for not knowing and he has seen Murtagh act apathetic towards her and Murtagh hasn't been acting all really redeemable to Eragon. And Eragon left and went to the servant's quarters: that is where he and the other servants who are not needed sleep. Oh yes, MLP:FiM is My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic lol

Brightwatcher- Just as expected, then this chapter will basically lay everything out, yo; Eragon has sense, but he is left out of the loop, lol. And yes, while Freyja gets long pieces, Eragon's dream sequences are short and italicized, lol

For those confused about the Women of Color, check below for the list

I simply do not own the Inheritance Cycle, for if I did, there would be bananas... oh well DRE-E-E-E-E-A-A-A-A-AM SEQUENCE!

* * *

Chapter 42

In the company of Strangers

In her dream she was under a pavilion in a garden, much like Lord Galbatorix's garden, with a fountain spurted instead of water was beads that ranged from the lightest and darkest shades of blue. All around it smelt of home as she was surrounded by tall green hedges that had specks of flowers in them: but these flowers were composed of precious stones instead of mere petals.

Freyja sat at a small circular table with tea and sweets and apples laid carefully around the elegant tea set. Beside her were skeletons wearing silks, chiffon, pearls that were sewn into the hems, and jewelry was encrusted in the very folds of such fine dresses. They were frightening yet they possessed an unearthly beauty about that that made them almost inviting.

Each one was different however and held a sense of order as they carried themselves and as they spoke to one another and drank their tea and ate the sweets and apples before them.

To Freyja's left one was without a jaw and whose gown was of scarlet and wine red as 'she' wore a ducal coronet with rubies that twinkled even though they were under the shade as well as had pure red tulips were sprouting from where her jaw was supposed to be.

The second after the Lady in Red had the top of 'her' head clean off as 'she' wore an airy, yet magnificent gown of royal blue and morning blue and had a golden leaved chaplet with sapphires designed to look like blue blossoms on 'her' head as had blue violets growing from her opened skull.

To Freyja's right, a skeleton wore a draping dress the color of a triumphant and hopeful sunrise gold that gave 'her' a dramatic look as 'her' golden leafed civic crown rested around 'her' neck like a necklace for 'she' had no head to put 'her' crown upon as daffodils sprouted from 'her' neck.

The last wore a billowing forest and emerald green gown with the scent of herbs about 'her' as the skeleton was charred black and upon 'her' blackened brow was a astral coronet while mint was covering 'her' entire body: the smell was quite strong.

Freyja herself wore a simple yet pure white chiffon gown as she wore a diadem made of pearls as pure white roses were entwined into her hair, and while compared to them, she felt poor, that did not stop her from being around them.

They chatted about things that escaped the young girl until everything became dark all of a sudden.

"Oh, here he comes," the Woman of Red giggled, speaking flawlessly without a jaw.

"He always comes, do you forget? He is such a whinny fool," the Woman of Gold declared despite 'her' being without a head.

"What will he take I wonder?" the Woman of Blue questioned, 'her' empty eyes turning between the women around the table.

"Be ready for him when he is here," the Woman of Green instructed Freyja, the smell of mint overcoming the blonde's senses; "for you know why he comes, do you not?"

"The tree to bear the fruit he needs!" all of the Skeletons said in unison as they looked to her.

"Tree?"

"Gardeners strive to possess the perfect flower or the best fruit or the best shrub that flatters them," the Woman of Red informed her, "We've all had been chosen like mere seeds and plants: we all bear the blood of the ones who are governed Law they've made".

"The Ones of Pale Flesh," the Women again said in unison.

"The Gray Ones," Freyja murmured as the women stood up while she sat.

"Those who possess that blood have godly energy: how else did they pass the Law of Language onto those of Lesser Blood?" The Woman of Gold jeered gesturing about as the shrubbery around them began to quiver.

"But how?" Freyja asked between the women, "How does one know of their blood?"

They all laughed at her as a breeze began to pick up.

"People these days do not know! Those who possess the blood are far greater than those of Lesser Blood," The Woman of Blue declared with pride, "Even if those of the blood of the Pale ones do learn the petty tricks of the Law of Language, they learn the Law faster than mere Lesser Bloods, and can be more powerful than even the elves if they break the law"

"But at what cost?"

"The cost of Life," the Woman of Green whispered as the entire skeletons stared at the young girl, "Life has great energy, more than that of those who follow the Law of the Language, but it can easily taken for granted: that is what the Pale ones had learned and paid for as they slowly died off. Not wanting those of Lesser Blood to go against them due to how few they were becoming, they created the Law of Language unto the Lesser Bloods: the Ancient Language".

Soon the fountain changed from beads to perhaps red wine that began to slowly cause the fountain to overflow as the green walls began to brown as the jewels fell down.

"But what does he want? What does this have to do with the Pale Ones?" Freyja helplessly asked as the Women began to step towards her.

"A _body _of that_ blood_," the Woman of Gold said as she pointed to Freyja.

"_He_ has learned that there was once a Fisher king of those of Pale Flesh," the Woman of Red added as she too pointed at the young girl, "One that possessed the land with their will".

"After years of studying, searching for the Word of Power, _he_ has learned the location of the ancient seat of power," the Woman of Blue stated as she lifted her own bony finger at the gray eyed girl.

"_He_ needs one that possess the blood of the Ones of the Gray Flesh to sit upon it in order to control everything," the Green Woman somberly said as she did what the other three were doing.

"The throne needs a King, _Freyja_," the Women stated as the young girl was frozen with fear.

Quickly the Woman of Red and Gold grabbed Freyja with a stone-like grip as the Woman of Blue cleared the table, causing the Tea set and fine china to break as it hit the ground.

They threw her onto the table, the Women of Gold and Red holding her arms while the Woman of Blue held her legs as the Woman of Green hovered over her.

"What are you doing? Stop! Please Stop!"

"Too late," they all sneered at her, "It's too late to _stop now_!"

The Woman in Green's charcoal black hands plunged into Freyja's stomach. The young girl stared in horror as her dress remained untainted and she felt no pain; it seemed almost a second had gone by until she heard the cry of a baby.

"_I smell Human Flesh_".

To Freyja's adding horror, the Monster from the beach appeared and walked towards the Woman in Green who had a baby in her bony fingers.

"An heir for you, _your majesty_," the Women jeered in unison as the Monster took _her baby_.

"No!" Freyja shrieked as she watched the Monster walk away, holding _her child_, _her Mordred_; she tried to struggle yet the Women still held her, "No! Please! _Give me back my Baby_! _Mordred_! _Mordred!_"

* * *

She shot up, much to Murtagh's surprise.

This Nightmare was worse than the one when she was on the beach: those women… no those demoness' said things that echoed through her mind and refused to leave.

"Are you alright?"

She turned to see that he sat on his end of the bed; apparently he had not slept as he wore the same clothing as he wore yesterday.

"I had a nightmare".

They were silent as Freyja laid down again, staring at the ceiling.

"Of what?"

She frowned as she turned her head to Murtagh.

"What do you mean?"

He slowly laid down beside her, crossing his fingers over his stomach as he looked up at the ceiling.

"When I was young, when I used to have nightmares, my nursemaid would ask me as a way to calm me down and showed me how they were not frightening when you talk about them," he said as she turned her head to look at the ceiling with him.

She stared at the stone ceiling for a few minutes, thinking of the details to tell him before finally deciding on how to tell him.

"I was in a garden," she said as closed her eyes to be able to remember the dream better, "And I was under a pavilion… but I wasn't alone… four other women were with me but they were skeletons".

"How did you know they were women?" He asked her, his tone was a cross between sarcasm and dry humor; instead of being disheartened, she felt comforted.

"They wore very pretty dresses, had jewel encrusted crowns, and each had different flowers growing from them, but out of all of them, the Woman in Green's mint was overpowering," The young girl said as she somewhat wrinkled her nose, "And we all were having tea until it got dark… Then they said _he_ was coming".

"Did they ever say his name?"

"At first they didn't… but they kept saying again and again how he was coming for something and they said I knew what he was coming for… Then they spoke of plants and the People of Pale Flesh".

She opened her eyes and frowned.

"I don't know why… but they told me something like… Oh it is hard to explain but… They spoke of how powerful they were and how they had passed the Law of Language onto those of… Um Lesser Blood," Freyja said furrowing her brow, not entirely sure if it sounded like it had made sense at all, "But then they said that the man who was coming needed an heir to the Throne, and then mentioned how only one with the body of the Pale one could sit upon it and become a Fisher king…"

She shivered as the words of the monster made her skin crawl.

"Then they attacked me… taking a baby from my stomach and… A Monster appeared which they referred to it as 'His Majesty' before it left with the baby… and then I woke up".

They were silent, and remained so for five minutes.

"Four women," Murtagh had finally said as she looked over to him, which he was still looking at the ceiling, "Perhaps the women I was married to?"

"Could be…"

"And they said of the Ones of Pale Flesh and the Law of Language: the Ancient Language you mean? There is a not so well known legend as to why we use it and of the Gray Ones"

"I think so…"

But then he was silent.

"And of the _Throne_? Baby and The Monster that took it?" she asked which he turned his back to her.

" Tomorrow… go to sleep Freyja".

* * *

That sounds like an AWESOME chair!

Here is how you can tell who is who when it comes to the skeleton wives-

The Woman of Red is the first wife: she had a saucy tongue, her jaw was removed.

The Woman of Blue was the second wife: her own mind betrayed her, which is why her skull is cut open; and no, I did not want her to wear black, it would have been cliché, even if she was an assassin.

The Woman of Gold was the third wife: she was a part of the Varden, which what better way to take care of a spy than off with their head.

The Woman of Green was the fourth wife: the classic death for a witch is either to be drowned (if the accused floated, then they were a witch and if they drowned, they weren't) or they were burned alive, hence the black skeleton. I've either read this or heard this from somewhere that green is to be the color of witches.

And last but not least is Freyja the fifth wife, or the Woman of White; no real surprise about that. Alas Freyja watches Mordred taken from her yet again and is held back by the Exes as well. But also, do not drink the fountain: it is not wine... it is blood, so do not drink from it


	50. Oh snap! 50th chapter!

Yup, got a job and everything… now I have to get some internet at my house! But as for this chapter, I can't stand 'I am so angry with you!' type of arguments or even angrily yelling at one another... I feel this needs some major reediting but eeeh, I am being lazy

And the fight between Galbatorix and Eragon was different... quiet! :l

Bright Watcher- I am glad you like it: can't say much for this chapter! XD

Restrained. Freedom- I can deal with skeletons... but I can't stand the process in between the skeleton and the decomposition! but this chapter... well... meh :l

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, but if I did, Saphira would have more near death experiences than just one... lol!

* * *

Chapter 43

Things Coming into Light

How did she know this?

_How?_

The Gray Ones and the Origin of the Ancient Language was a mere tale passed around by a few magicians and even a few elves, but never was it really spoken by anyone who wasn't a spell caster.

As the story went, the Gray Ones put a Law onto everyone saying that in order to use magic they were to speak it. Due to evidence, it was well known before the Ancient Language was made, people were careless with it. And then as soon as they casted the spell, the Gray Ones disappeared into thin air: there was no clear evidence even telling if they were there or not, which made them no more than a story.

_Just like Eragon_, Thorn pointed out, through her dream, _she learned of this as well as the future: the women were most definitely your wives and it was Galbatorix who took your hatchling. It appears she sees him for what he truly is in her dream while she sees him as a human in real life_.

Yet another piece that was given to him but he did not know where to fit it: the throne

'_Eragon has mentioned it, and now Freyja too: this is more than a coincidence_,' Murtagh replied as he tried to sleep, '_But if there is such a Throne, then why did he not tell me about it?_'

_Perhaps he only sees you as a weapon, but what he wants is a puppet._

Then something began to make sense.

'_The outpost was probably basically a cage or breeding ground used to maintain people in it-_'

_-And as time passed, any traits those people had became unique only to them, such as those who possess the Gray People's blood that-_

'-_Galbatorix had finally noticed them and decided to hand pick_-'

_-Those who had the traits he was looking for which-_

'-_Would explain why he did not deny or accept the accusation and it would explain why he picked those women to be my wife_'.

_Just like horses_, Thorn bitterly pointed out with dry humor_, But why now? Galbatorix is already at least well liked _enough_, and with the Word, he is the strongest being in Alagaësia_.

'_But what would be his angle in using the Throne, if there is a Throne, now?'_

_ To be seen as a _God_? He is a complex human despite how tiny he is and I am not too fond in asking Shruikan whenever Galbatorix does something I do not understand._

'_That's odd, because I can see him having a god complex_'

Thorn chuckled, but did not hide how he shuddered at the idea.

'_I_ _will have to investigate the Outpost and find out what is so important about Freyja's people and what makes it apparent that they might be the descendants of the Gray ones_'

_Right after you tell her the truth, right Murtagh?_

Murtagh paused, a lump formed within his throat.

'_Right_'

* * *

Brushing out the tangles was really hard and while her strategy was to comb from the top, it didn't exactly help.

"Freyja".

She looked up to see Murtagh, yet while before his eyes were always questionable, now there was a certain emotion in them and she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Yes?"

"This is something…," he paused; she wanted to tell him to sit on the bed with her but he looked like he wanted t to stand, "There is something that you have to know".

"What is it?" she asked placing her brush down.

Then an uncomfortable silence and feeling fell upon them.

"There is a reason to all of this, to why we are married: it is all in Galbatorix's grand scheme of things he wants to happen," he said , which she frowned at, "He is not the man he makes you believe he is".

"Not all people are," she said, shrugging at him, stopping herself from scratch behind her ear, not understanding what he was getting at, "It's not like I didn't know it".

"Then do you know why there is a Varden?"

"Because they just want to usurp him: as if they knew any better".

"No, it is because what he has done: yes, he isn't a saint, but he has caused so much suffering for the people in the eyes of Varden. He nearly obliterated a species, destroyed the very essence of a government to bring in his own, slaughtered men, women, and children just because they refused to either bow to him or were in league with the Varden. To them, he deserves to be killed and I cannot blame them for it".

Freyja stared at him; he was sounding somewhat like her Uncle and again all she could do is sit and listen.

"I am not saying what they're doing is right, but now they are hurting themselves, trying to appear like the hero they strive for yet their image is crumbling. Before Nasuada, her father, Ajihad, was in command and only had them in secured area known as Farthen Dûr, which was a reasonable place before they moved. From then, they have been on the march or run due to Galbatorix sending forces and myself after them, and they have their own problems as well as their image to worry about".

"Then… why are you telling me this?"

"He could easily snuff them out," he told her, "He can cast a spell and have it done"

She scoffed, but she was uncertain.

"Not everything can be changed with a spell: too great a spell would kill a person, right?"

"He can cast that spell any time he wants: he is far powerful than anyone and is the only one who could go up against elves".

"If he is powerful, why hasn't he casted it?"

His face was easily composed and hard to read, which frustrated her as he gave no indication of being angry, calm, or sad.

"This is a simple game to him: he controls the pieces, the terrain, even the rules itself. He just does this so people will favor him so he could be the well liked one by everyone".

Her lips tightened as she remembered how nice Galbatorix was to her: granted, he was not exactly fatherly but she liked him as a friend. Freyja didn't like the idea of all those things Murtagh said about Galbatorix.

"Again…. why your telling this to_ me_?" she asked, her throat slightly tightened as tears began to form.

"You deserve to know the truth instead of being led on. You and I are a part of those pieces he has and unlike me, you are probably going to be thrown away once your use has ran out: he wants our child to be the rider of the Emerald egg and if not, then he will either raise it to be a pet magician or to be thrown out. He has done it before and he is bound to keep doing it until the egg has hatched," he replied, as her chest tightened, "Don't act as if you knew this wasn't going to happen".

"Then _what am I to do_?" Freyja hissed; she rarely raised her voice and she rarely allowed her anger to surface.

"That I cannot tell you: what you can and what you can't do is beyond even me".

She expected him to say something other than that, which made it even harder.

"And why did you start caring for me then?" she asked, her voice was in between straining and raised as she stared at the ground while the tears kept pouring, "Why don't you just act like I am just another person? Why do you even waste your energy talking to me?"

"I am not pretending: you are a good person".

"Then why did you just now consider having _sex_ with me?"

"Galbatorix ordered me to"

She looked over to him with a snort.

"Oh? And does he tell you to _breath_?"

"Not as much as he wants us to _breed_: do you know why he decided to find your town? Your dream practically laid it before you: the Gray folk were once great magicians before they disappeared, and now there are mere remnants of them. You carry their blood, their linage, and Galbatorix wants the child you bear for his own gain. There is no Throne: it simply symbolizes the green egg".

'_I smell human flesh_'

Was that monster truly _Galbatorix_?

'_A new_ body _of that_ blood'

Yet that Throne did not represent the egg: she felt that it meant so much more…

"That is what that Monster taking away the Baby meant from my dream probably meant?" she asked him, already knowing his answer.

"It is".

Then she ignored him, he left her alone.

* * *

A-a-a-a-aw their first fight… I think?


	51. Homies help homies bro

Happy _late_ 4th people who are reading this: I have been having a weird on again off again time.

But what the hey-hey! I saw Prometheus twice and I have also seen Lawrence of Arabia, but I saw Lawrence of Arabia first before Prometheus; I was surprised when they showed the clip, for it is basically one of the first things you see in the movie! I am currently reading T.E. Lawrence's book 'Seven Pillars of Wisdom', which is pretty good.

If you do not mind the sci-fi thriller/horror, then this movie is for you! If you don't like that… Well, there is another movie called A.I.: Artificial Intelligence which ironically has a character named David in it and also deals with Artificial Humans or Robots. It also has Jude Law in it that plays a man-whore and tap dances: What more isn't to love?

BrightWatcher- Oh hai, you changed your icon… and you didn't miss much: just me… being lazy… Yeeeaaah… and as for the correction ( I literally face palmed myself) you get a chapter: I hope this one isn't that bad, tee-hee.

Also, my story cover or whatever they're calling these days is called 'Elaine- The Fair Maid of Astolat' by George William Joy; there is a particular reason why I chose The Lady of Sharlott.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle but if I did, I- Wait, Thorn get's a section? Huh? When that _THIS _happen?

* * *

Chapter 44

Understanding

Eragon could see she was different: it wasn't how she did her hair, or the new dress she wore, but it was that certain look in her eyes.

She would have no smiles, just a straight face whenever his half brother was around.

It was strange when she was around Murtagh now: it almost seemed like he was witnessing the banishment of Dûrgrimst Az Sweldn rak Anhûin again.

Murtagh didn't seem to care yet it seemed so alien since yesterday she was smiling, willing to try and keep Murtagh's attention and now she barely looked his way or spoke a word to him.

'_I heard they were talking yet I couldn't hear it… whatever it was, it changed her_'

When Murtagh left, Freyja reverted back to her former self as she relaxed with a soft sigh.

"Milady… did something happen?"

Freyja quietly observed him until finally a smile spread across her face: but this one was a sad one.

"Nothing you should be worried about"

"He didn't… He didn't strike you did he?"

Instantly she narrowed her eyes.

"If you spread something like that, I won't hesitate to put you out of a job, Bergan".

He blinked; her sudden change caught him by surprise, which again confused him: first she was apathetic towards Murtagh now she was defending him?

"Forgive me Milady…you seemed rather different if not depressed, I didn't mean to… insult you" he humbly replied as he bowed his head to her.

She blinked and once again her eyes softened.

"It's alright… thank you for caring," she said as a true smile crossed her features.

* * *

Thorn refused to leave his cave-shell-roost.

It wasn't that he was not in the mood for flying; he had heard what had happened between his two-legged-rider-companion Murtagh and his two-legged-mate Freyja and now it was apparent that they were both was basically hate-sad-confused.

It was also hard to ignore it because of their link whenever Murtagh's emotions were overwhelming.

'_Is there anything else you want to add?_' Murtagh asked his feelings were spilling-spreading into Thorn's conscience.

Already his two-legged-rider-companion was hiding his hate-sad-confusion into his readings in one of the many wall-book-library of the stone-shield-castle.

_There was no way to say it: it was harsh but you told her the truth. It had to be said but she didn't seem to exactly understand. You simply told her what _had to be done_, you didn't tell her _why.

He felt Murtagh digest this.

'_How?_'

_I will tell her._

'_And you believe she will allow you to enter her mind? Do not get me wrong, I am not doubting you but she was taught by Galbatorix_'

_I will try: for like you even though she confused, she will hopefully listen. You always listened when it came to reason._

'_Very well…_ _Good luck… Wait… I see Galiana. Damned servants probably were told by her to tell her where I was when they see me_'

Thorn chuckled, knowing that they've been through countless battles yet Murtagh would still run from two-legged-courtiers- nobles like Galiana.

The dragon turned his attention and allowed his secured conscience to roam through the surrounding stone-shield-castle; remembering how Murtagh's-mate- Freyja's conscience felt, he used that as an indicator as he moved through the stone-shield-castle.

It took him five minutes to locate her, for he made sure it was her before greeting her.

_Greetings Freyja, _he said to her, gently brushingagainst her conscience.

There were a few moments of pregnant pause.

'_Who are_ you? _You _feel _familiar_'

_I_ _am Thorn: before you put up your defenses, hear me out._

They were quiet for yet another moment before Freyja replied.

'_Very well…_'

_Come to my roost and we shall talk: there is something Murtagh did not fully explain_.

She said nothing, and while he was tempted to try and see how her defenses would hold against him, he decided not to.

He had his mind ripped-broken into before as well as had felt it happened to Murtagh, and he didn't want to put a person or beast through it; especially when he wanted to make amends.

So Thorn waited, hearing the voices of the birds, the sounds of the people, and his own breathing.

It seemed like an hour passed before he head soft, mouse-bird-like steps towards him, which he opened his eyes.

He snaked his head out of the roost and was a mere 5 feet from her, her gold hair-fur shone faintly in the sun.

While her face was too flat for him to read, he had to either depend on her tone or her gestures: two-legs-Humans-Dwarves-Elves-Urgals used them quite a lot as well as yelling and such. A mere gesture could mean they are joyful-happy, sad-hurt, or angry-mad, much like tails, but the two-legs used their arms and how they carry themselves.

'_What…,_' Mate-Freyja said to him, somewhat unsure of how to speak to him, '_What is it that you want to talk about?_'

Thorn couldn't blame the tiny two-legs-human of being afraid of him: he was a mountain to her but he didn't need to throw his weight about to show his dominance.

_What the two of you spoke about earlier today had to be said: granted, he could have said it differently, but you needed to know._

He couldn't read her face but he saw that her hands her clasped together.

'_I do not want to be reminded… please… I would have been better not knowing_'

Thorn allowed his head to get closer to her; his neck had yet to fully stretch out.

_Does being a clueless mare help? I want to talk to you because why he told you this: there is a reason why for this sudden thing… I will not tell you unless you fully accept it._

As he was closer, he rested his head before her, his eyes looking at her, almost keeping her in place.

'_Very well…_' she replied as she dipped her chin as she stared at the ground, '_I cannot promise you anything_'

Then Thorn began.

_Murtagh and I share a unique bond that allows us to feel each other's pain, thoughts, and feelings; it is this link that allowed me to listen to your conversation,_ Thorn told her in a soft tone, _Humans share that bond with their mates and fellow hatchlings but it isn't as powerful as a rider and a dragon. But you've felt that bond: such as knowing whether or not your sibling-hatchling or your mate is angry or happy, you feel it, or if they are hurt, you know how to console them._

Again a pregnant pause so he rested is chin onto the ground.

_Touch my snout._

She stood there.

_Do_ _not worry, I won't hurt you_, he told her, his voice gentle as well as a hint of playfulness to it as well.

She stepped towards him and placed her hand onto his snout and soon he allowed all of the emotion he had ever felt with Murtagh and for him into her: he was careful so that he didn't overwhelm her, but he gave her just enough. He knew what he was going to say was going to hurt her even more but he wanted her to understand the feeling between him and Murtagh.

He stopped and now she was supporting herself on him.

'_You… This is how it feels? Your feelings…_' she sounded both marveled and sad.

_We are not perfect despite us holding a special bond: we hide secrets from one another, get angry, get hurt, or argue with one another. And Murtagh hid a very crucial one from me._

He paused, and for a moment, he was going to continue but she spoke.

'_What did he hide from you_?'

_My future as well as yours. I want you to understand how our bond feels before I tell you_, he told her as she still had her hands on his snout, _Will you understand?_

'_I… I cannot promise you anything, but I will not blame you_'

_Or Murtagh: yes, what he has said was hurtful, but you must understand, you had to know one way or another. If he didn't care for you, he would have kept you ignorant_, Thorn told her, leaving out the fact that it was him that urged his rider to tell her, _But as you know we shall be leaving for Feinster to protect it from Saphira, but what Galbatorix told him is that if the two of you are not to mate then I am to face Saphira alone. I've held myself to her wrath again and again, that pain you've felt is but a mere spoonful to what Saphira would do_.

'_She truly is a demoness…_'

_No, she searches for her rider: he was ripped from her and it made her made with grief. No one but her rider will ever calm her down, and when she goes to Feinster, she will destroy it and perhaps me with it if it wasn't for Murtagh's selfishness._

'_He didn't want you to die… but…_'

_Yes, he was going to allow your hatchling to be plucked by Galbatorix_, He told her as she stepped away from him, _But do not think he does not know what he did is wrong: he considers his upbringing not something he would want his own hatchling to have. But if it wasn't for me, then he would have to worry about being tied to Galbatorix as he is now and if it wasn't for his father he would be free to do whatever he wanted._

'_Is… Is Galbatorix truly a cruel man?_' she asked, as he lifted his head from the ground, letting out clouds of smoke through his nostrils.

_The worst._

* * *

Hopefully this will be a good legit reason for Freyja to somewhat forgive Murtagh... I feel the last part with Thorn explaining everything to be forced, but oh well_  
_

If I dun goofed, then tell me


	52. Thats crazy talk

Yup, still story is still alive; I am going through a soul search-y type phase right now: you know when you're like all emotionally weirded out? Yup, me right there: kinda cloud that's up there and keeps moving?

Guest: _What are you talking about_? If you're talking about the Christmas Special, that is what it is: a Christmas Special, which it should plainly say on the title and the Story Contents :l

BrightWatcher- Thorn has been portrayed as a lot of things, and I wanted my shot at being different and making him a pretty decent guy... dragon... flying worm... whatever. That and I kinda hate random acts of immature rage.

Restrained. Freedom- That's sweet... however, Murtagh had come accustomed to having everything not go his way that it is apparent that he has given up trying to fight Galbatorix. And hopefully, they'll open up to each other and what not, but not enough to say it's fluffy and all.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, but if I did, I would have Liam Neeson punching a lot of wolves.

* * *

Chapter 45

Agreement and Learning

Freyja was sat in the study, almost expecting him.

She stared ahead until he made himself heard, which she looked to him and motioned for the chair in front of the desk.

Murtagh didn't bother lifting a brow as he sat down.

'_What is she doing?_'

_She simply told me that she will be talking to you._

They were silent until Murtagh was about to open his mouth, which Freyja interrupted him.

"Do not talk yet," she said, holding up her hand and taking a deep, uncertain breath, "I want to tell you that I spoke to Thorn…"

She let out a deep sigh.

"He… showed me or allowed me to feel how he felt towards you," she said as she finally looked him in the eyes, "I would have preferred you to have told me about you and Thorn, then I would have better understood why you decided to use me as a means to protect your Dragon's…hide".

It was a snide insult to Thorn but Murtagh held his tongue.

"But that does not mean I hate him… he is a nice… Dragon, fairly understanding and if he was human, I am sure he would be a great man, but he is already a great dragon," she said as she did not smile, "That feeling between the two of you is very… _pure_ if not strong, and I do not want to be the one to break such a thing. That sort of bond between companions is rare, talked about only in stories, and having _felt_ it first hand, I wouldn't want anything like that to be broken… especially over a woman's pride".

They were again silent as she got up and walked around the desk and stood beside him.

"May I?" she asked, and Murtagh knew what she meant.

"You may," he replied, knowing that she wouldn't do anything too drastic.

She slapped him: it was quick and painless.

"Do you feel any better?" Murtagh asked her with an arched brow, which she shrugged.

"Slightly".

"Very well…," he said as he then said, "I am sorry that I can give you no help and that I forced this upon you".

The two were silent so he continued.

"But you're weak," he said it was his turn to lift his hand to silence her; he took her hand with the ring on it, "I already know you can break a person without even trying, but physically you're weak. Some women carry about daggers in their skirts while others fashion their jewelry to be used as weapons: necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and rings tend to usually be used in hopefully self-defense".

He shifted the ring so it would face her palm.

"This would not do much, but it will be enough to shock anyone," he told her as she looked at the ring and then at him, "It will cause some bleeding if you use enough force in your slap. I doubt you will have to use it here, but if you are confronted with someone who refuses to leave you, wishes to harm you, and if their mind is guarded, you have to find some way to surprise them or allows them to put down their defenses.

"But I suggest you try your best to run and hide if you come across men like Barst," Murtagh instructed her, seeing her slightly shiver at the man's name, "For he is physically stronger than you are and could easily break you, but you needn't worry, for I will be there. You see, Barst may try to annoy me, but he knows he cannot brush me off as he had done to other men in the past; other than that blow hard, there are very few men who would try to take advantage of you even though they know you are my wife".

She nodded.

"Thank you… though, Murtagh, I don't…," she looked to the side for a moment before looking back to him, "I don't want to try and be lovers, I just want to try and be your friend… Do you understand?"

"I believe so," he replied as she somewhat smiled at him, "I do understand that it is already awkward for the two of us, and I do not think trying to be something more is going to help us if we want to trust each other".

She then continued.

"I know we will have to have sex, but I want something more than just only acknowledging each other's presence and a shallow relationship… I just want you to know that even though we're married, I don't want to be seen as your wife, just your friend," she said as her smile slightly lengthen, "And if you love another woman, than do so without taunting me or having her attack me: I am somewhat annoyed at people who hate me or attack me because of you"

The last part of her sentence somewhat caused him to chortle.

"Then I am sorry that we are husband and wife," he said as he somewhat smirked at her, "That is something I cannot help you with".

"True, but keep that in mind… though," she said as she then gave him a strange look, "_Do you_ love another woman?"

"No I do not".

'_What kind of question is that?_'

"That was rather quick…"

_I agree, Murtagh that_ was _rather quick…_

The red dragon rider shook his head and got up from the chair before resting his hand on Freyja's head.

She made a slight face and moved his hand from her head.

"Please don't do that," Freyja replied as her brow lowered, but she held onto his hand.

"Very well," he said as he tried to move his hand away from her but she kept a hold on it, "Can I have my hand back?"

* * *

He was almost jealous of her.

Eragon was somewhat curious about hearing Thorn's voice: due to purposes beyond his power, he would have to battle him and Murtagh, and his half brother's dragon kept his mind understandably guarded.

But that did not mean Thorn was bloodthirsty or cruel, for as Eragon watched Freyja and the red dragon from afar, he saw Freyja's body language change during the course of their conversation.

One time, it was very rare, he wondered about Thorn's voice and whether it was booming as Glaedr or grand as Saphira's, or perhaps it was surprisingly airy or crackled like fire. The ruby colored dragon was far burlier than Saphira as well as looked slightly like his mentor's golden dragon except for his eyes.

An old superstition went that the eyes were the doorway to a person's soul that one can understand another person by peering into their eyes.

While it was mostly untrue, Eragon could see that from how Thorn 'spoke' to Freyja, his amber-like eyes were warm, as if he was fire that brought light to everywhere and perhaps melt the thickest of ice…

'_No wonder he and Murtagh get so fondly along_,' Eragon thought out of bitter humor.

And if Eragon was not already confused by Freyja's sudden mood swing, she changed yet again, reverting to somewhat like her former self.

She was strange for a moment but when she looked at him, telling him to do whatever he liked and go wherever he wanted except here, he somewhat understood.

It somewhat made him cringe but he did not like the idea that she was trying for a child and Murtagh was allowing it.

Eragon shook his head as he remained in the servant's quarters of the castle, trying to enjoy some peace of mind yet he could not shake the question Murtagh told him: would he sacrifice Roran in order to protect Saphira?

If Saphira was still connected to him, she and him would easily try and think of a meaning out of Murtagh said, yet he knew neither she nor him would think of an answer for Murtagh's question.

Would he be able to do that to his own blood, the one he considered his full brother for Saphira, the being who was his other half, much like a sister to him regardless of their race difference?

Just thinking of the question sent a chill down his spine, which only added onto the fear of knowing that he was useless to stop Galbatorix.

However, an ebbing yet very strong voice kept slicking into his mind like Galbatorix's cursed voice.

"_Kill the child_," it whispered, "_Kill it by smothering it… they would easily assume it died in its sleep… It is the only way to stop Galbatorix…_"

But the brown eyed man cringed.

Was this him truly wanting it? Would he kill a child in order to protect himself and all of Alagaësia from Galbatorix?

Yet he received no answer.

* * *

MAN! WHAT A PROBLEM!

Eragon's descent into probable madness appears to be subtly appearing due to Saphira not being around.


	53. Dude, chill out

Restrained. Freedom – What? You're depressed? I wonder why (feigning ignorance). Granted, it would have been nice for Freyja to thank our favorite Angst ridden dragon rider, but she is smarting from being used. As For the two of them trying to protect their child is useless: Freyja is weak; even if Galbatorix taught her how to probe, our favorite Tyrant is obviously stronger  
Eragon is going through his whole dilemma with the dream he had since he is so certain that it is actually a bad sign. Don't worry, Eragon will make it, though I am not sure if in one piece or not :l

BrightWatcher- his suffering is our delight, though deep down, I feel somewhat sorry for him. And yes, Freyja shows some spirit after all this time; slowly but surely she is growing up.

This is a breather chapter I guess? As well as somewhat of a little nudge or whatever, though no Eragon in the next two or so chapters, so yeah, no soul crushing dilemma.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, but if I did, 오빠 강남스타일! :l

* * *

**Chapter 46**

Conflicting thoughts**  
**

That night wasn't as awkward as their first night however it wasn't any better either; then that morning Murtagh was sure she was joking, but Freyja was rather serious.

She kept insisting and yet he easily gave in.

So with brush in hand, she brushed his hair; it was strange yet nostalgic as he remembered his old nursemaid , for whenever she brushed his hair, she would hum lullabies and whisper old songs.

Freyja didn't hum but with every brush stroke, her free hand would trail after, as if to smooth or detect any knot she left behind.

The red dragon rider was then reminded of looking into her mind, of her dream with the child, how she beamed and held onto him, which caused Murtagh to cringe.

"Is there something the matter?"

"No, there isn't"

He heard her move away for a few moments and then turned back, tying his hair back.

"There… Do not untie it: unless you like getting hair in your face," Freyja said she turned away from him and he heard her plucking out the strands of hair from the comb.

He then turned and sat beside her, silently watching her.

She changed so suddenly.

Thorn hadn't gotten back, yet he didn't need his partner to point out why: Thorn was right in telling her the truth. While he sensed that she did not entirely enjoy the idea to be a broodmare and how he used her without telling her before, she understood his reason.

Yet he did not know if she had forgiven him or not.

After breakfast, Murtagh remained in the ward while Freyja let him be and left with Eragon trailing behind her with a particular glint in his eye; if Murtagh cared, he would have looked into it, but now he wanted to be by himself.

Tomorrow would be the day he would face Saphira, and quiet frankly, he was uncertain, which was a first in many years; Galbatorix had never made a deal like this, and whenever the mad king did intrude, Murtagh and Thorn were obviously the last ones to know this.

As the day slowly crawled on, Murtagh kept himself entertained by re-reading the books he could stomach, while Thorn was was sleeping off his hunt; it was until a little after 12 that Thorn broke the silence between them.

_Do I look like a worm, Murtagh?_

'_What?_'

_When I was talking to Freyja, I had seen some memories, and I found that she and the people from the outpost call us dragons "Flying Worms"_, Thorn mused, chuckling at the name, _Perhaps they had seen Dragons like that before? It's somewhat hard to imagine such a dragon without claws_.

'_You seem rather calm about being called a flying worm_,' Murtagh remarked nonchalantly.

_You and I have been called so many things all of these years_, The red dragon pointed out, _and what is the use of being angry? Getting angry over someone's ignorance is like kicking a dog for being a dog... or hating a dog for being a dog, _Murtagh_._

Murtagh pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

'_You bring that up now?_'

_As an example_, Thorn said, laughing sightly before sobering, _And if I got angry at Freyja's or another person's own ignorance, I would be no better than Shruikan_.

'_You will never be like Shruikan_,' the gray eyed rider stiffly replied, '_You are a better dragon than he is, no matter what size, how much power he has, or age_'.

_But what about you? Will you try and protect your hatchling?_

Murtagh became silent.

_Murtagh_.

'_How many years have I been under Galbatorix's control? How many times during those years have we tried to escape or try to find a hole in each spell, ward, and name changing he had ever used?_' Murtagh stated as he became suddenly agitated, '_What can I or even Freyja_ do_? Eragon being here makes it no different! He is merely a dog on it's chain, and I_ _am no better, for what happens every time I try to break free? I am always being thrown back and am restrained even more!_'

The gray eyed man slowly shook his head as he closed the book he was reading.

'_What's the use of planning or_ dreaming _of ways to_ _escape when every time we've tried to, we are pushed back several steps'._

_But that shouldn't stop you from preventing a life like that for your hatchling, _Thorn replied, but unlike Murtagh who was obviously angry, his partner sounded tired, and before his rider could speak, Thorn continued, _You would be a good tutor, and a wise guardian, but your hatchling will be in Galbatorix's grasp for the rest of it's life if you do nothing. Even if you give up in trying to escape Galbatorix's hold, then do not allow the King get his way with your hatchling. _

It frustrated Murtagh that Thorn was so certain there was another to avoid the child to be used as a tool; years ago, Murtagh would have agreed with his red scaled partner, but now he was a different man._  
_

'_Then what about_ you_? I _refuse_ to sacrifice you,_ _and if the king suspects, which he will, then he would punish us, more you than me_,' Murtagh fumed, his brows furrowed, '_I can't do anything: can't you not_ see _that? _'

_You do not see it, for you give up too easily_, Thorn challenged, his decision unchanged, _Then what of Eragon?_

'_What about_ him?'

_How was he able to escape the confines of Morzan's castle?_

'_Our mother managed to escape and had him in Carvahall_,' Murtagh grudgingly replied as he felt Thorn slowly taking away any anger he was feeling, 'Who cares if she loved him more than I, what does it matter if he was able to live in bliss while I lived in this distorted nightmare of blood, cruel intentions, and ugliness?'

_But she_ tried, _and she managed to hide the fact that she was pregnant from one of the supposed great magicians in Alagaesia_, Thorn said as the anger Murtagh was feeling was now becoming nonexistent, _And while she could have saved you, there would have been some suspicion as to why she was taking her child away, and thus neither you or Eragon would have been saved. Which is why I want you to save your hatchling._

But Murtagh mirthlessly laughed.

'_How can I do that? I may be a rider but I am still_ human'

_I do not know, but when the time comes nearer, we will find a way_, the red scaled dragon replied, _Perhaps you can ask Eragon to help you?_

'_Why should he? I have given him so much pain, cut off his hand and let us not forget that I handed him over to Galbatorix_'.

_But is he the type to hate someone to hate because of another? Would he refuse to help you_ and _Freyja?_

Murtagh paused when Thorn mentioned Freyja, remembering how she reacted when she learned of the child's fate, but was she crying because all around her was a lie or that their child was to be a puppet? But then he considered her dream, for sometimes dreams reflected a persons dreams and their true self._  
_

_It's only fair to include her into this, right?_

'_But what can she do? She is at Galbatorix's mercy and the only thing remarkable about her is that her mind is fortified and that she was trained by Galbatorix_'

_Something that only Galbatorix knows, but again, we do not know, yet._

* * *

With Bergan by her, she felt safe, and so she managed to walk about the castle however, the two were quiet the entire time: she kept thinking about Mordred.

While he was not even born yet, she did not like the idea of her child being treated like some toy, tool, or a pet; Freyja could now somewhat understand why he had run from her in her dream: he deserved to be free, even from her.

But what could she do when she was completely useless against a man as powerful as Galbatorix, the very man who taught her how to protect her mind as well as use it as a weapon? Part of her wanted to ask Murtagh for help, but he gave her the impression he had already given up, that while he didn't like the king, he served the older man regardless.

She couldn't exactly blame Murtagh, not after what Thorn showed her, for when the dragon showed her all of his feelings, she felt her being shake and she began to rethink what she believed, especially when it came to a dragon.

It was so strange to even think that a dragon a conscience, for all those stories said they were bloodthirsty and greedy, yet Thorn was anything but those things, which made it even worse to think the red dragon was put through so much hurt.

She was sure if he had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor, he would be like…

Freyja stopped herself from speaking her brother's name.

It had been a while since she had even thought of her family such as were her siblings carrying on fine? Was her older brother all right despite his weakness? Did her step mother give birth to a healthy child? Had anyone married or were with child?

The blonde was so far from home, so caught up in the things she did that she did not even spare a moment to remember of her own family.

She stopped, which Bergan mirrored her; she looked over to him, seeing something was the matter.

"Bergan," she said to him, causing him to look up at his name, "Is there something the matter?"

He tilted his head to the side.

"No, nothing is wrong," he replied with a tight smile; she didn't believe him but decided not to push him, so she decided to ask him something else.

"Do you have any siblings of your own?"

"I... have two actually"

She smiled.

"Are they well? Were they in...?"

He shook his head.

"From what I heard, one is doing fine," Bergan replied as he thought for a moment before nodding, "He is doing fine, especially his wife and children"

"Children? How many?" she asked, which the one armed man rubbed his neck, his smile faltered and his eyes became glassy for only a moment before he recovered.

"Two, one boy and one girl," he said as it seemed he had something in his throat, which he then cleared his throat, "The oldest is Ismira and the youngest is Garrow".

"I hope you meet them soon... and the other? How are they?"

"From what I gather, he is doing _fine_," Bergan said with a now bitter smile that made Freyja confused, "I heard has a child on the way".

"Oh, I hope the child is healthy," she said, which his response confused her even more for he gave her a quick strange look.

"Yes... I do too"

* * *

Yup, made mistakes but meh.

Sorry for being lazy XD


	54. Magic prevents ouchies

Good morning, good afternoon, and good night.

Yeah, working the night shift isn't so bad, but the days and the nights tend melt together. I prefer nights because I am mostly a night owl and I often find myself staying up instead of going to sleep when I need to go to bed.

I work at a Hospital as a Janitor, otherwise known as a House Keeper, otherwise known as a bed maker. I clean rooms after a patient, pick up trash, and I am in the ER cleaning stuff; I really do not like cleaning the public bathrooms for people are _really messy_.

Restrained. Freedom – Nope… not yet.

BrightWatcher – Ah-ha-ha-ha. Oh, if she did know, Murtagh would be on Freyja's not-so-good list. That's if she did have a list.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle, for if I did, I'd have mermaids and mermen. And space whales

* * *

**Chapter 47**

Reckoning

He left early the next morning, but just before he could, somehow Freyja woke up for a moment and tied his hair back.

"Don't untie it," she softly ordered, still tired from sleep, "It will keep your hair out of your face".

He resisted the urge to say 'Thank you nanny', but gave her a simple 'thank you' and left.

Thorn was uneasy; Murtagh could practically taste the worry as he suited Thorn with his armor and saddled him.

Galbatorix would have to make good use on his promise… but was he to capture Saphira or stop her?

_Do not get me wrong Murtagh_, Thorn said to him as he looked over his massive shoulder,_ I am not entirely afraid but what is to happen? Am I to charge her head on and expect to be protected or do we have to wait for a sign?_

'_I don't know…_'

Thorn gave a slight shudder; his scales bristled, causing a high pitched squeal to fill the air like swords rubbing against each other.

Thorn stepped out of the roost and was in the air.

Thorn's behavior was understandable: nobody liked feeling pain (except masochists perhaps), and throughout his life, the red dragon was given the full brunt of it: by Saphira, by the elf's golden dragon, and by Shruikan.

It was unfair for Thorn to be beaten to sometimes almost an inch of his life and, all because he they were forced to serve the king.

An old anger began to fill Murtagh's veins, an anger that wanted to tear apart those who caused Thorn to suffer: the gold dragon croaked but his heart of hearts was about yet hidden, Shruikan's time would eventually come; any pity for what had happened to the black dragon disappeared the moment he lashed at Thorn for no reason, and it appeared that now Saphira was the only one left who deserved it perhaps the most.

How dare she accuse them of being oath breakers, egg breakers even: what choice did they even have?

While he made no oath to anyone except being forced into one with Galbatorix, it was the elves who perhaps more than gladly broke those eggs, and yet she blindly accepted them: what a hypocritical-

_Murtagh, please, I know you wish to strike, but save it for when we are there_: _allow the anger to strengthen you, not to distract you_.

The dragon rider nodded.

'_Thank you_'.

Yet he still felt the anger throughout his excited body, the thirst for blood, _the she-dragons blood_, and whoever was going to protect or ride her.

The closer they got to Feinster, the more bloodthirsty he felt: the edurani he kept hidden felt his mood, and added their own confused feelings to him. They didn't know who he was fighting yet they willingly gave their energy and their own emotions into him.

Galbatorix had broken each one to the point that they could barely say anything understandable: they were nothing but dogs who barked about; following every order Murtagh gave them, and cowered away from any sign of aggression towards them.

Rain was hitting them when they were just 5 miles away, and soon the winds became gales yet Thorn easily remained buoyant.

_The storm has arrived_.

A half mad roar split through the moan of the wind.

Murtagh did not care if she looked for Eragon, he did not care for the city he was defending.

All he wanted was to see her _bleed_.

* * *

The red dragon kept his wings close to him as he jetted toward the blue-scaled-she-dragon Saphira and basically shoved her away: he had had experience, pain staking experience, especially when it came to his wings.

Thorn could count the times he had his wings thorn, slashed, ripped, and twisted apart on each scale on his red-scaled-hide, and with those painful lessons, he learned from each one..

Saphira snapped at his neck, but she could not take a chunk out of it thanks to the spell that was around Thorn: it was as if he had an extra layer of armor-scales around him that he did not feel.

Angered, she kicked off of him and now flown above him, her maw open to bite Murtagh off.

_Hold on tight_! Thorn warned Murtagh as he quickly went onto his belly and kicked Saphira away, causing a line of blood to spill from her forehead. As he twisted, she got a hold of his tail and twisted it, knowing full well that while she could not break his magic-armor-scale, she could still cause some damage.

Thorn yowled as his tail broke, reaching over and biting onto Saphira's muzzle, her blood-life-essence filling his own maw-mouth; she let out a guttered growl yet he refused and continued to bite down even harder.

Murtagh had healed his tail, for Thorn felt each bone reline itself: it hurt but it was a relief.

"_Bring her far away from the city!_" Galbatorix's voice boomed, somewhat surprising Thorn and Murtagh, yet they couldn't afford a moment to stop but they've felt a surge of new energy bubble up inside of them.

'_I'll get her attention, you lead her_,' Murtagh told Thorn who forced Saphira to let go of his tail and distanced himself away from the fiery blue-scaled-she-dragon.

Murtagh casted a spell, which at first Thorn waited for a moment before the she-dragon let out a scream as her wings were being broken, folding upon themselves like a child folding a piece of paper.

A second later, they were healed and Saphira's attention was on them as she dove towards them.

Thorn evaded, easily dodging her, again thanks to experience.

The red scaled dragon then led her away, snapping her snout whenever she faltered, breathing fire onto her when she breathed fire onto him.

Soon Feinster was just a dot when Thorn stopped.

"Your rider is not there, _Saphira_," Murtagh called out in the Ancient Language; it was apparent that she was somewhat coherent or sane as she roared at him yet did not attack, "he wasn't in the village you slaughtered, or the town you destroyed, harbinger of death! Follower of hypocrisy!"

She shrieked, Thorn kept his defenses of any attempt she used to speak to him or mentally attack him, and attacked far brutally than before.

Saphira launched herself at them again, but was precise at where her next strike would hit: his very head, which Thorn quickly became defense and tried to evade.

When Thorn was just a hatchling, Shruikan made every attempt to snap at his head, and when Thorn grew, the older dragon continued; it was a test of dominance that the elder dragon would do that slowly drilled into Thorn's brain.

Because of this, out of instinct Thorn began to squirm away, his head trying to avoid Saphira's maw-mouth while trying to not hinder Murtagh too much.

A shout was heard but not from Murtagh, but from perhaps the elf riding Saphira; soon Thorn did not feel Murtagh and instantly he reacted by tearing at her tail, ripping the tip and spitting jets of fire at her.

_Murtagh? Murtagh, are you alright?_ Thorn asked his rider, his great heart beating quickly, _Murtagh!_

While he could sense his rider was still alive, he was oddly quiet, which distressed the red scaled dragon.

Yet despite Murtagh's silence, he and Saphira battled on until finally it was apparent that those who were helping her were waning. Despite the spell on him, Thorn had two talons broken, a rib or two perhaps broken as well, his tail ached, and he was sure he had a few organs bruised.

When they pushed back from each other, they were both panting like dogs, their tongues lolling out of their maw-mouths; Thorn didn't know whether Saphira and the Elven rider knew that Murtagh was conscience or not, but it didn't matter.

_Go to Urû'baen!_ Thorn called to Saphira, returning his tongue to his maw-mouth and exposed his massive teeth at her, _There your rider will most likely be, treaty breaker!_

She let out one roar before retreating; Thorn landed onto the ground, panting heavily as he snaked his head to his rider and gently as well as carefully touched him with his snout.

Thorn didn't know what to do as he felt alone, and quite frankly it scared him.

_Please be alright, Murtagh…_

* * *

Where?

Where?

_Where?_

Where is he?

Is he hidden?

Is he in plain sight?

Oh her life for her rider! Oh her breath for Eragon!

Where?

Where?

Is he a slave?

Is he a prisoner?

Who?

Who?

Who?

Who has him? Who dares to hide him!

Urû'baen?

Urû'baen Thorn said?

They tell her no, but she must find him!

She must!

_She must_!

_Eragon, where are you?_ She lamented to nothing and to everything.

* * *

Dyamn, Murtagh, bro, you seriously have some issues, and his hair is the _least_ of his worries Freyja.

Oh yes, last part is Saphira's Point of View; I am putting this out before someone asks.

I feel like I made a mistake somewhere, but I do not know where... no, it's not that I've made this fanfic, but something else... hmm


	55. PLOT SIGNIFICANCE? IN MY STORY!

HEY LOOK! DOUGLAS!A-A-A-A-AW YIS!

Brightwatcher- Oh you… you must really want a chapter. Fine, you win, here's your chapter. I give it to you… with some plot significance! Dear god! But in other news, Murtagh is a raging ball of emotion, but I believe after many years of dealing with Galbatorix's shenanigans, he has learned to control it.  
As for the titles, they're the hardest to come up with since I try to be serious with them while the Chapter Titles easier cause I do not have to be serious. And somehow I feel there are some serious grammar issues with that sentence, but thanks for liking it.

I do not own the Inheritance Cycle for if I did, I will never rest until my sword impales upon your colon.

* * *

**Chapter 48**

Prelude to answers

"Douglas?"

He turned to her; how things had changed in such a short time!

"Freyja- I mean, _Lady_ Freyja," he said as he bowed to her; the blond frowned as she watched her childhood friend obediently address her.

He looked so sick, so pale, having lost his usual warm personality.

She and Bergan were roaming carefully through the less populated halls, for she remembered how Murtagh told of Galiana (which the young girl did not doubt him for a second).

Bergan remained a distance away, eerily quiet and withdrawn; usually he was quiet and answered when he was spoken to but during those times, he was always interested in everything around him and in talking, yet now he could care less with the things around him.

"Just Freyja," she corrected him, yet she knew it was useless: she naturally outranked him, "I am glad to see you… well?"

Douglas smiled, but it wasn't his usual one.

"I've mostly been busy… healing, hiding, shielding, all those lovely things," he said, shrugging his drooping shoulders, "but I see you are fine, which I take you are faring well?"

"A few bumps here and there," she said, as she fought the urge to touch his arm, "but I have been well though… did… did you ever hear from home?"

She felt guilty asking him, but Douglas did not seem to mind.

"Your father is dead and your step mother gave birth to a healthy girl: don't worry, she is supposedly being treated well".

The news caught her off guard yet she couldn't muster any tears, not even for her father.

"What for?" Freyja asked, not knowing how to take her father's death, "What had happened?"

Douglas somewhat shifted his feet.

"Lord Shamash, your twin and the leader of the outpost, did something, I do not know what but whatever it was, your father did not like it and was about to lead a coup d'état against him…," the blond man simply shook his head, "Lord Shamash executed them all".

The gray eyed woman frowned, and squeezed her hands together.

"Could Shamash do such a thing?"

"I do not know… I've only heard the news recently, and quite frankly, it's jarring. I had to have it repeated to me several times".

The two knew that Shamash, despite his weakness, was her father's favorite child; Freyja wasn't at all jealous of her older brother for she liked, if not deeply cared for him but after what had happened before she left…

"I see…" she slowly said, slightly biting her lower lip before giving an unsure smile, "but did you get my letter?"

"Yes I did… I am glad to see you are all right," Douglas said, his old smile returning back to him despite his appearance; but he faltered.

Freyja felt somewhat cold and smelt something… sour…

"Douglas… is there something the matter?"

He was silent; something about his eyes reminded her of a dead horse, which frightened her.

"_Douglas_?"

He blinked and smiled.

"Sorry, I have to go," he said as he bowed to her, "Forgive me… milady".

"Not… Not at all," she replied, slightly bowing to him and stood by as she watched him leave.

'_Douglas… what happened to-_'

She concentrated on him, but then felt a breeze that smelt foul.

There was not a window in sight, and there was an intoxicating amount amount of flowers in this hall.

She did not move as she could hear Bergan walk up to her.

"Lady Freyja?"

"I don't want to be here anymore," she said, turning to him and against rank held onto Bergan's hand, "I do not care if we meet Galiana… I do not want to stay _here_".

Freyja spared on last glance to Douglas and muttered a prayer; god knew he needed it.

* * *

Something was off about that young man she was speaking to: it wasn't until the very end did it seemed like something _was wearing his skin_. Eragon wasn't sure since the magician was from the outpost, for their magic could have been easily different than the type he was used to.

But he smelt a Shade.

He battled a Shade, and he had even witnessed a Shade being summoned into this world, both times he had made it out alive, yet he still remembered how they looked, how they acted, and the feeling they gave him. Each time he felt like they were a monstrosity, a void in this world.

However he did feel something just like this in this young man as this magician left.

When they were in the throng of the main halls, Freyja let go of his hand yet kept close to him, still somewhat shaken; did this mean she felt whatever was in her friend too?

"_You could lead her into a deserted hallway and choke her_," the voice in the back of his head whispered, "_Murtagh isn't here… you can blame it on one of the servants_..."

Eragon began to recite one of the poems he remembered reading from Ellesmere.

"_Kill her before she gives birth to the child… it will thwart Galbatorix's plans… You will save Alagaësia…_"

Yet Eragon ignored it.

"_Kill her…_ _Stop the madness and kill her_…"

* * *

_Murtagh…!_

He let out a sigh.

_Murtagh…?_

"Thorn?"

Instantly he was bombarded with joy and relief; it took him a moment to open his eyes and stare at the cloudy sky that was dulled by his helmet.

"What happened?"

_The elf cast a spell that knocked you out; Saphira and I fought, she left, but I do not know if she went to Urû'baen or if she went back to the Varden._

It didn't seem like something an elf would do, especially to one of Galbatorix's key tools to defeating or desecrating the Varden's image.

"Whatever the spell was, it must have been advanced or different from the spells they've used before," Murtagh remarked wearily, "Whatever it was, it knocked me out cold, but for how long?"

_3 hours_.

Taking off his helmet, the dragon rider blinked in his surroundings, his hair was undone and was flowing in the breeze.

Murtagh frowned and touched the back of his head and brought back the now broken string Freyja used: it was withered and looked burnt; like someone had put an enchantment onto it and it reacted to the spell that was probably meant to kill him.

But he didn't feel any enchantment on it.

'_Freyja..._'

He didn't remember her mumbling anything; in fact, he was not even paying any attention to her at all that morning.

Murtagh couldn't help but curse himself.

_What's the matter?_

'_Are you well rested? Did you eat?_'

_I did and_ _I am rested… Why do you ask?_

'_We're going to the Outpost: it's been long due that we get our answers… I doubt Galbatorix would care if we drop by and look into it_'.

* * *

If I wanted goofs, I'd go to a GOOF factory!


End file.
